


The Stories We Never Told

by PandaNova



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Canonical Character Death, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-14
Updated: 2013-09-14
Packaged: 2017-12-23 12:28:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 34,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/926443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PandaNova/pseuds/PandaNova
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The stories he told the Seeker were a small fragment of Hawke, he didn't share her weakness, her pain, her guilt, or her love. Those were for Varric and Varric alone, more precious than any treasure, things that he would never share. The millions of moments and stories he never told, the lasting testament to the woman he found, lost, and hopes to find again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. How They Met

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a look at the activities of Dragon Age II (and slightly beyond) in the concept of a Hawke/Varric romance, and I have tried to keep this pretty close to canon to give reason why a romance with Varric may not appear in the game. This story is fairly dark at times, and can be very depressing at times, so this is definitely not a purely fluff story.
> 
> I hope you enjoy the story, and come back for later chapters.
> 
> (Rated M for later chapters)

Varric knew everyone in Kirkwall worth knowing, and that was no idle boast. Information was his currency, and so he had kept himself apprised of every new cutpurse, merc, and apostate in the city - and there were a lot. With the Blight axed and rotting in the Fereldan fields the boats had stopped coming, but not many were heading back to their land of dogs and mud. Varric loved opportunists, they were the easiest to work over, and quickly replaced, but this wouldn’t do for his current need. Varric Tethras also loved to let Bartrand pretend that he was in charge, but the numbers didn’t add up and Varric did not accrue debt lightly. Debt was more years with the guild, and he had seen enough of the guild for a lifetime.

He needed someone who could get the coin to make sure that they did not start this venture in the red, and attempt to find himself a decent fighting arm. Bartrand was sure that the Blight had thinned the number of darkspawn in the caves, but twenty thousand darkspawn instead of a hundred thousand was far more than he cared to meet. The swords-for-hire Bartrand had insisted upon were cheap, and were going to be no match for a set of Coterie thieves. Paragons knew what would be waiting for them in the rank corners of the Deep Roads, and even if he was forced to walk out empty handed, he would be walking out. Varric high valued his life, much more than anyone else in this city, and if he wasn’t born in a Thaig he sure as nug-shit wasn’t dying in one.

Luckily he was a master of orchestration, and of spreading choice information. He had spread so much misinformation about this move at the deep roads it had become a legend, scoffed at in public as a bar-tale. That scoff had kept away the Coterie, the Guild, and the Carta. He also knew how to get the right information to the right ear, the trick was to know who and how. He had heard the name Hawke more than once in the last year, she had quickly become known for being effective, efficient and deadly, which was precisely what he required. Once he had set his sights on the elusive Serrah Hawke, it took him two weeks to have everything in place to approach her from a position of bargaining power.  
It was no accident that she heard the correct information about the expedition, and was given where to find Bartrand and when. He had paid good money to ensure it had gotten to her, and it was also no bit of serendipity he and Bianca were present at the scene. Pitch, the would-be thief, was an easy sort and the promise of Coterie favor was enough to drive him into Hightown, the twenty silver he paid in advance didn’t hurt. This was a play, and Pitch was the star - for now - and Varric knew just what to say upon his exit. Pitch was told to grab the purse of the person walking away from Bartrand, no one else, he’d stop him and swoop in to save the day and Pitch would exit the stage. Twenty silver for Pitch and an excellent introduction to one of the best sell-swords in the city for Varric.

It was unfortunate that Pitch did not have the finesse to pull it off, and his bump was predictable. Varric had intended to allow Pitch to run, and then swoop in when he got away, but Serrah Hawke was no fool and quickly gave chase. It would not do to have his star killed in the first act, and so he swooped in with Bianca. Luckily, he had planned for this, a bolt to pin the shirt, a quick few steps, even the pulled punch on Pitch before the boy ran.

The coin purse was heavy, he had guessed well, she didn’t have what they needed but they could get it. He felt the weight as he turned and laid his eyes on the mysterious Hawke for himself as he twirled his retrieved bolt for emphasis, his swagger overstated for the benefit of present company. What he saw waiting would have stunned a lesser man. Varric had worked many an unscrupulous character to a downright bastard in his time within Kirkwall’s hospitality, but sell-swords were not usually beautiful, or in the company of an equally beautiful specimen. Serrah Hawke was a bit short for a human he realized, the dark haired beauty beside her slightly taller, they shared obvious signs of familial nature, similar lips and eyes, but that was where the comparisons stopped.

The young woman, who he knew from a few well paid sources was called Bethany, had a nervous but sweet nature. She eyed Varric like a deer might, prepared to pounce if he moved wrong, and he gave her an unassuming smile to reassure her. Serrah Hawke herself, on the other hand, looked completely calm and in control, a playful smile on her lips and a raised eyebrow. Her skin was paler than her sister’s, but it was her hair that set them apart, hair the color of fire. Deep red gave way to bright oranges in the sunlight, and only made her eyes all the more distinct, and it perfectly matched the dark hair and bright eyes of her sister. He was amazed no one had mentioned their stunning beauty; they looked as if they belonged in Hightown with the rest of the well-groomed daughters.

“Forgive Bartrand, he wouldn’t know a good deal if it punched him in the jaw.” He heard himself saying, returning her purse with an easy toss which she caught with the same laid-back air. He continued to speak, but his eye was memorizing the two women in front of him with a finesse that came with his love of stories. Hawke herself was not what he expected, he had thought to find a sell-sword of usual stock, half-decent armor, and a bad attitude, and instead he found a wit. He introduced himself, and she smirked returning with a easy one-liner and Varric was impressed, and he was not an easy man to impress. Her bow was custom, though nothing like dear Bianca, her armor top rate and comfortable, her sister was equally well dressed, though much more casually so as to not draw attention. She wore beautiful gold jewelry though, and he was sure that was no accident.

Hawke was also cleverer than he thought, she led the conversation even though he started it, and her sister was a well-kept secret even he didn’t know about. He knew the Red Iron had hired two for a year of nicely-termed slavery, but her status as an apostate was hidden. In fact, no one seemed to notice the girl with the staff walking about, which was a pity because she was beautiful and deserving of being noticed.

Still, he could see why she was being ignored; every man who gazed at her met the fierce blues of her sister and quickly busied his gaze elsewhere. Varric was not sure his plan would work out, a first in his experience as a master planner. He spelled out what need be done but Hawke was stone, smirking with arms crossed as she leveled bright blue-green eyes at him, she wasn’t buying it.

He was suddenly sure she was going to walk when Bethany was the one who spoke reason. As they talked quietly he was allowed to take them in for more than their beauty but for their personalities. Bethany was sweet, and had edges of gentleness that were nicely hidden on her sister but present. The sarcastic and wit was dropped as she sought to reassure her nervous looking younger sibling. They spoke quiet enough he only caught a few off words, but their emotions were splayed easily as Bethany gestured and Hawke pushed back red hair before pinching her brow. Finally she turned, dropped the smirk and she reached out her hand.

“Well met, Serrah Tethras. Let’s hope you’re worth half of the posturing, or you may have to watch your brother lose his beard.” She smirked again, and a deep warm laugh left Varric’s chest. Oh yes, he liked her, and nodded his appreciation before walking toward the Hightown square.

“Yes, well my brother said I could conjure gold with a word, let’s hope he was right.” With a smirk thrown over his shoulder to Hawke, and she responded with what he was sure was a real smile before following him to toward the square. “And if you have no work lined up, Serrah Hawke, I suggest we stop by the Hanged Man for a pint, I have a few prospects of my own it might be worth following.”

“Please, call me Kerrigan.” She said as she moved to his side, Bethany tailing behind and to the right of her as they began to take the steps into the market, “And I’ll only accept a pint if you’re buying.”

“You’re a shrewd woman Hawke,” Varric responded, a grin on his face as they walked, “But I am in a generous mood. To the Hanged Man, and we shall see how quickly we can convince this town to shower us with their coin.”


	2. All The Gold In This Town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke is a busy bee collecting up the fifty sovereigns, but when she manages to collect it in under two weeks Varric is suspicious. Where could she have gotten it all in so short an amount of time? The only way to find an answer, is to ask.

They were almost there and he knew it, as they made the trip to the Wounded Coast he was preparing for the last of their needs. Even as they climbed a few bits of debris, in his mind he was going over manifests and lists for everything that would be arriving, how quickly they could be out. He figured another week of odd jobs and they’d be over what they needed, a general estimation but he was good at judging what was in a purse by it weight.

There was also all the things Kerrigan had bought, a new sword and better under padding for Aveline, that garnet necklace she bought for Bethany that she swore was enchanted and that she didn’t get it because Bethany kept staring at it whenever they passed the shop on their way home. They both knew she was lying. There was also that inscribed harness she found for him, he adjusted it slightly with an appreciation for its weight, the girl had a good eye he had to give her that, but how she was going to afford to get them out there with all the money she was handing out in equipment, he was unsure. He had almost decided just how much hard cheese they would need to take when Kerrigan’s voice broke his train of thought.

"So tell me about yourself, Varric." Hawke said, a playful curiosity on her face as they walked along the coast. She loved to strike up idle conversation, and he had found himself the target of her wit more often, not that he was complaining. It was enjoyable to speak to someone who could appreciate his fine sense of humor.

"I'm not all that interesting, Hawke," Varric responded, a large and easy grin on his lips as he adjusted his lapels for emphasis, "just a dashing, handsome rogue with a silver tongue and a soft-side."

"Bullshit," Kerrigan said, cutting him off with well-placed sarcasm.

"True, but I've been working on Shadow's Glory for some time now, wanted to see if anyone would buy the soft-side part." He laughed and she joined him, before he looked around at the path ahead. Adjusting Bianca with one hand, he felt anticipation rising as he kept his finger on Bianca’s release. Despite the enjoyable company they were on the Wounded Coast, never knew who, or what, would show up

"It wouldn't do to stain your stoic reputation." There was something soft in that, hiding under the playful tone that had his eyebrows rising.

“Messere, you wound me.” He clutched his chest for emphasis, before they both laughed, loud and carefree as always. There was a slight wind picking up with the rising tide, and he caught her looking out at it more than once, as if she had time to admire the view. They continued to pick their way around rocks that found their way onto the main path, Aveline in front of them looking as menacing and scary as ever, and Bethany behind who was laughing softly at their banter.

"Don't all storybook heroes have tragic back stories?" She asked, turning her head to look at him as they continued their path over the sand and rock of the coastline.

"Ah, tricky Hawke," He waved a finger at her, as if admonishing a child, but she only smirked in response, "but I'm no hero." 

"The point still stands Varric, a dwarf as handsome and dashing as you must have broken some hearts, created some stirs." Her voice dropped to a sensual whisper, and by the Ancestors he hadn't expected it. The smirk was dropped in favor of a playful pout, and Varric looked away quickly, feeling an odd-heat rolling underneath his skin.

He knew Hawke was a lot of things, but he had never suspected she was able to turn to flirtation into a weapon. "You'll have to do a lot better than that to find out this rogue's backstory." He said, fingers flicked dismissively for emphasis. It was a lie, if she had kept up that act much longer he may in fact have caved, luckily he was an excellent liar.

They had taken a side path and seeing nothing of value headed back meeting up with the main path, Aveline and Bethany taking up their positions once more. The place was strangely quiet. Usually they would be up to their neck in raiders, but it appeared to be everyone’s day off.

"Is it tragic?" She asked after they had fallen back into their normal rhythm, and the tone was soft with concern, another surprise.

"Beautiful, it'll have you weeping into your ale and decrying the Maker...” His voice deep with false-pain, pinching his brow and casting meaningful eyes at her.

"Also bullshit." Hawke retorted, the same old smirk on her lips.

"Could be, but that's half the fun isn't it?" He gave her a lecherous smirk and she laughed then, full and loud, which must have given away their position for all of them became away of the thunder of footsteps on the dirt headed in their direction. Hawke quickly readied her bow as Varric pulled the release catch on Bianca, watching the two pronged-tension system spring into life. "Another time, Hawke, it appears we have company."

"Good thing too, I was getting bored listening to you bullshit." She pulled an arrow from the quiver, the move graceful with the finesse of practice. She set it against the string and brought her arm back to her cheek like she had a million times.

Varric moved at the same moment, six paces to the right and one up, his legs set apart as he held Bianca low, waiting for the first sign of their attackers. "You'll never get tired of my bullshit, Hawke."

"You never know, one of these days I might force you to tell me the truth." Hawke shot back, not letting her eyes leave the choke point in front of her, waiting for the first sign of movement.

"Shut up, both of you!" Aveline yelled, smacking her blade against her shield for emphasis, "Here they come."

There was a lot of fighting after that. One group of raiders turned into two, and then Tal-Vashoth joined the fray as they finished picking over bodies of the second wave of raiders. The battle was filled with flashes of fire, arrows raining down, swords and shields clashing, and the sound of growling mabari. The flurry of battle was its own drug, and he enjoyed it fully as they called taunts back at each other, bolstered each other, and helped a comrade in arms should there be a need. More than once he saw Bethany and Hawke, back to back laughing as Bethany would cast elemental fury in one direction while Hawke aimed arrows down field with rapid precision. They were a well-made team. Bianca took plenty of lives amongst the brawl, and afterward they fanned out to find anything of use while Aveline kept guard.

They stripped the corpses of anything of value, Varric shaking his head at the senseless death. Senseless death was Hawke’s business, if there weren’t people needing killing she would be in quite the pickle. . . But it seemed stupid to throw themselves at her. “Fighting us is suicide.” Varric said, turning with surprise when he heard Hawke laughing.

“I just wish someone would tell them that.” Hawke shook her head, looking down at the bodies with something almost melancholy on her face. She kicked over one of the bodies and pulled a few silvers out of his pocket.

“I’m just glad they found you, and not a caravan.” Aveline said, the harsh tone in her voice making it obvious she held no pity for these men. Hawke simply shook her head before finishing her work as Bethany came over to hand her what she managed to find, and to show off the staff she found on their alchemist.

“Well, I believe that is it, we may as well head back.” Hawke said, looking around at the dust and ocean, the sound of waves on the rocks and the wind picking up.

“One of these days, Hawke, they are going to run out of bandits.” Varric observed, holstering Bianca before handing over the few silvers and a necklace he pulled off one of the men. “And then what will you do?”

“Oh, I don’t know Varric.” Kerrigan said, a wide grin on her lips as she looked down to him, “Maybe I’ll pick up story telling.”

“Your tongue is worse than any lash, Serrah.” He exclaimed, fingers pressing to his chest as he staggered, his jester like over acting making her burst once more into laughter.

Kerrigan patted his shoulder apologetically, “Don’t worry Varric, I’ll never take your work away from you.”

“Good, for you would be terrible at it.” He retorted, and she laughed as they walked back the way they had come. He had noticed the entire return trip that Hawke was in better spirits than usual, her smile bright and infectious as she included everyone in her little quips and jabs. She even had Aveline laughing due to a joke she made at the expense of one of her fellow guardsman. When they came into Hightown she was not only smiling, but practically swaggering. The swing of her hips had always been noticeable, but now it was overstated to the point of distraction and he had to brandish Bianca at more than one staring street-man.

“You look like the dragon that ate the elf, Hawke.” He said as they began the trek back to Lowtown. Aveline had already departed for the barracks, leaving him with the two sisters for the evening walk from Hightown.

“You mean cat don’t you?” Kerrigan countered, stretching idly as they entered the high town market.

If you believe yourself closer to a cat than a dragon, you are selling yourself short.” Varric said, and felt himself grinning with the peal of laughter that left her. Many women, especially the high-born, laughed like tinkling bells or twittering birds, but Hawke laughed a real laugh, it was a loud and boisterous thing, like a dirty barroom ditty. “So out with it Hawke, you’re practically glowing.”

Hawke seemed to contemplate answering for a moment, and he almost forced the issue before her grin broke wide and he knew she’d caved. “That was it, the last bit of the money we need.”

“It can’t be, you’ve been only working for two weeks.” He played false, acting surprised. He’d known she was close, but didn’t know how she had done it. Hawke was grinning and it lit up her eyes, victorious at having gotten together what was a small fortune for a refugee in so small a time. He felt suspicion raising the hair on the back of his neck, but kept his laid back mask as he spoke. “When are you going to tell Bartrand?”

“Tomorrow, like you said it’s a small window.” Hawke responded, with all the confidence she normally carried magnified by that dumb grin on her face.

“I can’t believe you got it gathered up so quickly, sister.” Bethany said, with the same awe he had seen many people placing on Hawke recently, as if she was some miracle worker. Maybe she was, he had seen her achieve things in a week that would have taken many people months, but even Andraste couldn’t make gold rain from the sky.

“Well, we’ve been doing a lot of jobs, and I took on a few side things for Athenril.” She said it with ease, but Varric’s ears picked up the lie. She couldn’t possibly have been working for Athenril. She hadn’t been out of his sight for more than a six hour period over the last week, as she had taken him on every mission they had gone on. He felt his shoulders tensing as she continued to speak. “I’m just glad I managed to get the new chainmail for Aveline before we leave, have you seen what they expect her to wear in the barracks?”

“I know! It’s no wonder they lose so many guardsman.” Bethany said, laughing conspiratorially as they began to enter into Lowtown proper. The girls kept talking back and forth as they headed toward Gamlen’s, discussing the odds and ends of their new found friends in Kirkwall, the new armaments Hawke had acquired, and the beautiful staff Bethany found. They passed the Hanged Man, which is where Varric would usually part company, but he made an excuse of seeing them home and kept walking.

When they got to Gamlen’s rat infested hole of a home, he had made up his mind. A question was pricking at his brain and he had to know before this venture was cemented. Bethany had practically rushed up the stairs the moment they were in sight, obviously wanting to get out of the sweat and grime of the day, thank the Ancestors for small favors.

“Hawke, a word.” She stopped at the sound of him speaking, her foot on the top stair. She turned and came down to where he stood in the old slums square, a confused look in her eye.

“Just one? You’re known for a lot of things Varric, but brevity is not amongst them.” Wiseass Hawke, she always had a line.

He smirked and shook his head. “Brevity doesn’t make for good stories, Hawke.” He saw her smile at that and took it as his cue to go on, “I was wondering if you’d come with me to the Hanged Man. Since this time tomorrow we could be in the Deep Roads where the ale will be worse, I thought it best we do this now.”

Hawke scoffed, “Worse than the Hanged Man? I don‘t believe it.”

“Believe it beautiful, it is the worst stuff ever invented.” Varric said, laughing as he watched Hawke considering for a moment.

“I’d love to join you. Let me go get Bethany and then we’ll go.” She turned and he reached out, his leather covered fingers wrapping around her wrist to stop her. He had never realized how small her wrists were as his fingers could curl into a fist and have the space left for that thin wrist.

She went rigid at the touch, before relaxing and he let go when she turned to face him once more. “Not Bethany, just you. I want to discuss some things about the excavation before we go.”

Hawke frowned, but nodded after a moment. “Alright, let me just let them know I’ll be home late.”

The walk to the Hanged Man was done mostly in silence, only small bits of conversation to break the rising tension. He had never asked Hawke out alone before, and could feel how guarded she was in her body language. She kept her hand near the small dagger she kept at her back, her steps measured and eyes forward. She also left her coin purse back with Bethany save for a small amount of spending money for drinks, he could tell by the sound when she walked. He wondered for a moment if it was that she was worried he would betray her, a foolish notion but he could understand it. When you come from a country where the greatest general betrays the king and you are forced to watch your countrymen die… well you may have a hard time trusting anyone.

They were almost to the Hanged Man when he finally spoke up, “Just where did you get all the coin, Hawke?”

“The same way as you. Taking unscrupulous jobs and killing bandits for profit.” She gave him a smirk, but it faded when the look he gave her was stern.

He stopped just outside the door, believing this conversation best somewhere outside the rumor mill, and gazed at her with the most critical eye he had ever leveled at her. “Bethany and the others may buy you working for Athenril on the side, but I know for a fact that you have to sleep. You’ve traipsed me about every rotten thieves den, cursed forest, and dragon infested pit within two days travel in this past week.”

“What’s your point?” She was becoming defensive, crossing her arms across her chest as she spoke, body language tense.

This was bad; however, Varric was not one to be deterred by the possibility of being smacked for his curiosity. “The point is that there is no way you could have gotten together this much capital in two weeks just by doing the jobs you said you were.” She didn’t bite, instead she tensed up even further, and he pressed. “You can lie to Bethany, you can lie to your mother, hell you can lie to the damn viscount for all I care, but if we’re going to be partners you can’t lie to me. Even with the fifty sovereigns it’s nothing without my word. Now tell me the truth.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” Her voice was a low hiss, eyes narrowing as he saw for the first time what made her enemies quake in their boots.

Varric didn’t waver, and instead leveled his golden and amber eyes at her with a similar intensity, “Tell me the truth, Hawke. I won’t tell anyone else, and this will remain between us as partners, but if that’s dirty money you’re going to be hurting a lot more than yourself.” His voice lost its edge as he spoke, concern leaking through.

That seemed to get through to her, her shoulders sagging as she let out the air she’d been holding, “I… sold some things.”

He felt his chest tighten, this wasn’t what he expected. “What things, Hawke?”

He saw the guilt as she rubbed a hand across the back of her neck, eyes averted. “Just some personal things that I didn’t need anymore. Things from Lothering, or sentimental things I…“ She paused, looking away from him entirely as if some sound was catching her attention, “I just really didn’t need anymore.” She shifted her standing before turning those blue-green eyes on him, a nervous smile in place of her usual smirk.

In that moment he realized just how young she was, this edge of innocence he had seen in Bethany but never in her, she was always too strong, too smartass to show it. “Beautiful, why didn’t you just say you needed more time? You never had to do that.”

“Like you said, it’s a small window.” She tried to give him a confident smile, but he crossed his arms and she caved. “I need to get Bethany out of Lowtown, quickly. There was a templar in the slums yesterday asking specifically about a dark haired apostate. They know, and they are going to find her if I don‘t find something to protect us, and soon.”

Varric softened his expression, crossing his arms as he looked up to her, “You should have told me, beautiful, I can buy you some time.”

“Not enough.” Her expression was far off for a moment, a frown on her tugging her lips before she shook her head and it disappeared. “Anyway it’s done, I have the gold already. We may as well take advantage of it.” The confidence had come back as she smirked at him, “Besides, I don’t trust fifty sovereigns alone with Uncle Gamlen.”

Varric chuckled, shaking his head at the prospect, “I wouldn’t trust your Uncle with two coppers. He’d somehow turn it into a kingdom’s worth of debt.” He pushed open the door to the Hanged Man, feeling Hawke shadowing him as he stepped within. The warmth and smell of ale assaulted them as they made their way inside. He nodded to Norah, but stopped Hawke as she made way to their usual table. “No, no, tonight we drink the good stuff. Come on, tonight we dine in style.” He spread his arms to emphasize the grandeur of their evening as he led her up towards his palatial suite. If they were going to drink before going to the darkspawn infested holes deep in the earth, he wasn’t drinking Hanged Man ale.

They settled around the table, Hawke resting with her feet on the chair next to her, her Mabari lounging on the carpets at the end of the long mahogany and granite table that was an heirloom from Orzammar that he bought off of one of the surfacers that came through years ago. He pulled out a dusty old bottle of wine, cleaning the edge before popping the wax. He also grabbed two dark goblets, Antivan they had told him, pouring the deep red liquid before raising his glass.

“A toast!” He said, moving with a flair of his coat into the chair opposite her own. The bottle placed between them as she raised her glass.

“What are we toasting? Health, good fortune, safe travels?” Her wine was carefully placed in her hand and raised toward him.

“Piss on that Hawke, let’s do a real toast.” He stood up on his chair, towering himself into the small space and Hawke rose as well, raising her glass as he belted loud enough for those below to hear, “May the tunnels be free of darkspawn, easily traveled, and fucking full to the brim of gold.”

“Here, here!” She echoed as he bowed before clinking their glasses together and quickly downing the entire glass, Hawke mirroring him before they both thumped down their glasses before breaking into laughter.

Several hours later they had finished the bottle of wine and were once again drinking Hanged Man ale, the ale that made you wish you were hanging. They had laughed, talked about the deep roads, and now Hawke was leaning forward in her chair, a slight flush to her cheeks and eyes half lidded.

“Do you have a thing for stray kittens, Hawke?” Varric asked, chuckling as he watched Kerrigan cross her arms defensively and that made her sway slightly in her seat.

 

“I like dogs, Varric. Or hadn’t you noticed?” She tipped her head towards Wrex, who was laying at the end of their table. The mabari looked up hearing his name, wagging his tail before settling back down.

“I don’t know, you seem to be picking up strays left and right these days. Cute little kittens to brooding ones,” He leaned back in his chair, his pint carefully balanced on his knee as Kerrigan shot him a look.

“I took you on, and you seem to be the greatest stray of them all.” She retorted before emptying her flagon for the n-tenth time

“Oh no, Hawke, you’ve got it all wrong. You’re the little hungry kitten I couldn’t say no to.” He smirked at her offence, lacing his fingers across his chest casually, as he always did when observing, “Why do you think I’m putting so much on the line to take you with me into the Deep Roads?”

“Because people who cross my path have a tendency of ending up dead?” She retorted, giving him the smirk he knew her so well for, even if it was slightly more relaxed with alcohol.

“That too, what’s to say a cat’s just for looking at?” It didn’t have the sarcasm he had intended, but she laughed anyway. Maybe he could attribute that to the alcohol too.

“What’s your point, Varric? As much as I love bullshitting with you, we’ll be here all night with that approach.”

“I’m just worried, you seem to have surrounded yourself with a lot of people who need you to do things no person can.” He contemplated the ale, slightly turning the glass before taking a swig, as he set the flagon back he caught Hawke staring at him.

“I miss your meaning Varric.”

He sighed before continuing, “They want you to fix them, to solve their great mysteries, and they want you. I’ve seen quite a few eyes made at you recently, and many of them are not the sort of look friends give.”

“Varric-” She exclaimed, a scandalized expression on her face, “you‘re jealous!”

“Hawke-” He said, the tone admonishing and warning at the same time, but all she did was laugh.

“Don’t worry, you’re the only dwarf I care for.” She leaned across the table, grinning at him solicitously, but in return all he did was narrow his eyes at her.

“I’m the only dwarf you know.” He corrected

“Same difference.” She said with a shrug, ordering another flagon before sitting back. “Are you concerned I can’t handle it?”

“You can handle things fine, beautiful, I know it better than most. . .” He frowned, this wasn’t going the way he had intended at all. He scratched his beardless chin, before looking over to her and the sincerity in his eyes dropped her smirk. “I just don’t want to see you getting hurt, alright?”

She smiled then, soft and sincere. “Thank you, Varric.” Her voice was gentle, and he felt something inside his old armor soften, “I promise I’ll be careful.”

“And if any of them hurt you, Bianca and I’ll go sort them out.” It had meant to be a joke, but he had forgotten to smirk, the gentle baritone giving a hint of softness he hadn’t intended consciously. He shifted in his seat uncomfortably, what was coming over him? Trying to express his concern he was saying a lot more than he should be. He must have had too much wine, or ale, or both. His eyes looked at her from the edge of his periphery and found her still smiling, the same soft and sweet look, but her eyes were averted as well, looking down into her empty pint. He had to look away again, it wasn’t fair, he hated when women gave him those little-mabari eyes.

“Bianca’d do that for me?” There was something in her voice, a slight quiver of feeling and he forced himself not to look.

“What can I say,” Varric said, shrugging as he stared into the fire his throat suddenly feeling dry, “she likes you.”

“I’m quite fond of her too.” Her voice was a whisper. It was as if this was a different Hawke, one who didn’t throw away everything with humor. He steeled himself away from it, thankful when Norah came to distract her with another pint of ale. He was going to have to be much more careful from now on, she was a sly one. Part of him had wanted to reach across the table then, to hold her hand and reassure her, but he kept himself still. There was no time for that now, and no time for her to take it in a way he didn’t intend. Still he felt his protective streak rise around her. He could only pray to the Stone that his hopes for this excavation would be correct.

“Are you alright?” Her voice broke his concentration, and he smiled wide for her.

“Of course, beautiful.” He finished his flagon as she was sipping at hers and leaned across the table, “Now how about a story, I’d love to get your opinion on the latest chapter of the Shadow’s Glory.”

She laughed, sweet and easy as he watched the red in her cheeks grow brighter as she lazed back in the chair. “Alright bard, weave your stories. It’d better be good.”

“Would I ever let you down, beautiful?” He said, bowing slightly in his seat.

“You haven’t yet,” she admitted with a laugh, “and that is certainly something.”

They drank heavily that night, laughing and talking until the wee hours. Varric ended up insisting that she not attempt Lowtown drunk before dawn, and gave up his bed. She had tried to protest, but he was insistent that she didn’t have a choice. He sent a note, informing Bethany to meet them at the Hanged Man at noon, before deciding to get some sleep himself. When he came to his door he saw Hawke, sprawled out still in her armor. Her arms curled under her head with her red hair trying to blend with his sheets. She hadn’t even gotten beneath the covers. He shook his head, chuckling softly. She was such a kid.

He came over, unbuttoning his jacket and throwing it over her, hoping she wouldn’t put one of her shoulder guards through it in the night. He was rather fond of that coat. He watched her small fingers curl around the outside edge before he walked back over to the table. The choice was the floor with the mabari or falling asleep in a chair. Luckily, due to many meetings with the merchant’s guild that he hadn’t simply skipped, he knew how to fall asleep in a chair. He pulled the chair outward and settled into its tall backed and looming air, resting backward with his legs propped up on the table.

He looked over to Hawke, watching as she rolled over, curling the coat over her with small mumbles. “Next time beautiful, you can sleep in the uncomfortable chair.” He said with a grumble, before closing his eyes and waiting for dreamless sleep to take him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Criticisms and comments are encouraged, and I hope you are all enjoying the second chapter of The Stories We Never Told. Thanks again for reading, and we'll hopefully see you in the next chapter.


	3. Regret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took so long! I lost it due to a computer failure, and had to rewrite it. Then I got myself a beta! Huge thanks to SpectreAntiHero for her hard work on the chapter, and the help with the work going forward. Here is hoping the chapter was worth the wait! Enjoy!

Varric only slept a few hours, as was his usual. There was a myth that due to the inability to dream dwarves could function on less sleep than the Fade-burdened dreamers. Varric believed it was congenital stubbornness.

 

He was careful not to wake Hawke, noting she hadn't moved since he had last checked on her. Each time she had made a sound in the night, or moved it had roused him. Wrex seemed unbothered by the grumbles and groans keeping himself at the end of the bed without stirring once, but Varric found himself waking and checking on her with each small noise she made. He shook his head as he rose and disappeared into the wash room to splash some cold water on his face and get rid of the last of the stiffness from spending the entire night in that chair. That girl was going to be the death of him.

 

Varric was used to taking on lost causes, it was how he had made some of his best contacts, but his involvement was purely for the Tethras gain. Hawke was different, as he had come to realize more and more over the past two weeks working with her. Hawke could do things no one else ever had, and laugh them off like they were nothing. She would be a wise-ass to your face, and self-sacrificing the moment you stopped looking at her. He set down his towel and looked up at the mirror and was satisfied that at least he didn't look like he had spent all night in a chair. When he stepped out he found she had rolled, curling into a small ball like a child.

 

Varric stepped over to the bed, looking down at her as she wrapped her arms around herself against the chill. He shook his head quietly, a soft laugh on his lips as he reached down and pulled his jacket back over her shoulders. She really was such a kid, and in sleep she showed how young she really was. She quieted, the pinch in her brow disappearing as she nuzzled into her own curled tresses that were substituting for a pillow. If he was sure he could have done it without waking her he would have grabbed one of the pillows at the head of the bed and slip it under her head, but as it was he was concerned she'd wake just by his movements around his palatial suite.

 

He smiled warmly at her, shaking his head again before pushing a few strands of her tightly wound hair out of her face. “Sleep well, kiddo.” The words a whisper before he adjusted his tunic and stepped out, closing the door behind him.

 

Varric felt a little underdressed without his jacket, but played it off as if it were nothing despite Norah's raised eyebrow. He had almost made it to his usual place near the fire when a body stepped in his way, dark skin and gold.

 

“Where were you, Varric?” Isabela asked, her lips pouting and voice to match. “I waited up for you.”

 

“Forgive me, Riviani.” Varric responded, bowing with a flourish, “I hate to leave a woman wanting for me.”

 

“Tease.” Isabela countered, shaking her head before moving out of his way. He took his usual position and she sat across from him, her eyes taking him in. “And an outright flirt coming out here so underdressed, you shall cause all the women in Kirkwall to faint should you dare to step out so. . .” Her eyes shot down to his chest, a hungry smile on her lips, “exposed.”

 

“Worry not, I shall not be causing civil war in Kirkwall today.” His eyes caught the sight of one of his urchins standing not far off, odd since the boy usually delivered direct to his room. He raised a hand to him and the boy rushed over, handing a letter with a seal wax of the Coterie. Fantastic, just what he needed.

 

“I stopped him from going up there.” Isabela must have caught his disapproving look as he was about to question the boy.

 

“Now, why would you do a thing like that?” Varric asked, the hair on the back of his neck rising in concern. He handed the boy his silver, nodding to him as he smiled and disappeared out the door. Two cups of cider appeared almost immediately after, Varric giving Norah a winning smile as she continued to eye him oddly.

 

“A little bird told me you spent the night with a beautiful woman.” Isabela purred, leveling her dark eyes at him with every bit of sensuality she could muster,

 

“I didn't know you were partial to birds, Riviani.” Varric didn't look at her when he spoke his fingers fetching a small blade from his belt to break the wax seal.

 

“Where is your jacket, Varric?” There was that conspiratorial smile again, when he didn't respond that cat-like grin grew wider. “So it's true then. The city shall be heartbroken to know that the eligible bachelor and Paragon of manliness, Ser Varric Tethras, has a sweetheart.”

 

“It's not what you think Riviani.” Varric responded, setting down the letter and breaking the wax seal of another message. The coterie were demanding more protection money and he was hoping this next letter would have better news. Unfortunately, it was more of the same, this time from slavers who had heard about Merrill. Hawke was costing him a fortune with her stray kittens.

 

“Who is it? A lady dwarf?” Isabela was practically draping herself across the table now, eyes alight with mischief as she ran her fingers against the marred wood. He kept reading and she continued without him. “A girl from the Blooming Rose perhaps? No, too common. Oh! A secret love affair with a noble-”

 

“Hawke.” The simple word stunned her rigid, mouth hanging open as she was stopped mid-sentence. Varric couldn't contain himself any longer and began laughing, his deep baritone reverberating through the main floor of the Hanged Man.

 

Isabela recovered immediately, her stunned look turning into a glower at being made a fool as she crossed her arms. “Very funny! Now, out with it, who is up there?”

 

“I'm telling you, it's Hawke.” He saw Isabela's eyes narrow with an unspoken threat and he held up his hands to pacify her, “like I said it's not what you think. She was here last night to discuss business and now she is up there sleeping off a hangover.”

 

“Dwarven business comes with a hangover?” Isabela's brows rose, betraying her skepticism. Varric was almost disappointed with the lack of innuendo added.

 

“I can tell you haven't worked with many dwarves.” Was Varric's only response, pulling up yet another letter and reading over the 'elegant' scrawl of one of his scouts, he was just thankful it was legible at all this time.

 

“Maybe I should go check on her.” Isabela said after a few moments, pushing up from the bench only to find Varric's hand atop her own and pushing it rather hard into the table. Varric kept his strength in check, but her hand was pinned.

 

“She's sleeping, Riviani.” His voice carried a warning as he leveled his amber eyes at her. She tugged once and found his hold firm.

 

“I bet she's lonely and cold in that big bed.” Isabela purred, and Varric pressed a little harder and gave her a firm shake of his head. She sighed dramatically before she sat down, crossing her arms with one of her best pouts on her lips. “You're no fun.”

 

“I am a lot of fun, if I wasn't you would not meet me for drinks almost every night.” Varric left her to her pouting busying himself with another scouting report. He really needed to put some plans in place for his agents while he was out of town with the excavation, insure they continued being paid. “Stop pouting, Riviani. Let her sleep.”

 

“No fair.” Isabela sighed dramatically, grabbing her cider and taking a deep pull off of it before setting it down. “You have Hawke all to yourself for a night and do nothing, then scold me.” The pout was back as she leaned across the table toward him, “If you're not going to take advantage, what says I can't?”

 

His hand grabbed her wrist again, but his eyes stayed with his missive. “I do.”

 

She gave an exasperated sigh, sitting back and he let her go. Quiet stretched for only a few moments before Varric caught her gazing up the stairs longingly in the corner of his eye. “Is she undressed at least? Maybe I can go sneak a peek…” She moved to stand and Varric caught her again, tugging this time so she stumbled back onto the bench. Isabela whined before sitting again, her free hand pushing at his grip on her wrist until he finally let her go. “You can’t blame me for wanting to see.”

 

“I can and I will.” Varric said passively, picking up his letters as he let her go. “I’m surprised at you, Riviani. I would have never guessed Hawke was your type.”

 

“She’s not.” Isabela replied, pushing her cider away and shaking her head before ordering some early morning ale. “But have you seen the way she moves? I just want to know how much of that is her leathers and what's hers.” He gave her a look of confusion in response and found that large lecherous grin on her lips again, “You can't tell me you haven't noticed, Varric. The way her hips swing when she walks… And carrying behind them these two perfect globes of flesh that beg to be squeezed.” Isabela’s voice was far off, dripping in innuendo as she moved her hands up as if caressing her way up someone's sides. “When she pulls her bow back, her buttocks tightens and her chests thrusts forward, with her long fingers holding the tension in the wire. Her chest heaving with each breath, her legs spread slightly apart and her lower lip caught between her teeth as she waits for the first man to meet her arrow. It’s beautiful.”

 

Varric felt his throat threatening to close as she spoke. He had never heard someone speak of Hawke this way. He was aware she was beautiful, for a human, everyone who looked at her knew it, but to hear her described the way Isabela had sounded like something out of some of his more tawdry work. He set down his letter again having read the last line four times trying to think through her very vivid description. “How much time have you spent staring at her, Riviani?” His voice was stern, reproachful even, as he stared her down. Norah brought them both another pint of watered down cider and he took a large swig to clear away the last remnant of her description.

 

“Enough to imagine at least fourteen different ways of tying her up and having my way with her.” Isabela replied, leaning across the table as she purred the words at him.

 

Varric returned it with a warning glare, and she smirked in response. “You’ve probably done that with at least half the people in this pub.”

 

“Yes, but none quite so vividly.” She said, her eyes looking up the stairs again and he captured her wrist preemptively.

 

The rest of the morning was relatively quiet. Isabela busied herself attempting to distract Varric, and Varric ignored her skillfully as he finished catching up on his own affairs. Sunshine appeared right on time, and was treated to the barely edible fare of The Hanged Man. Thirty minutes after that Blondie showed up, uninvited, but just as welcome.

 

It was an hour past noon when Hawke finally emerged. He caught sight of her first, watching her quietly shut the door behind her. She looked well rested, relaxed even as she came down the stairs with his jacket draped over her arm. Her curls were as wild as always, but her skin was less pale and her steps more relaxed than he had ever seen them. She met his eyes and gave him a small nod of her head, and he returned it. The others must have noticed because he watched the soft smile she had worn disappear beneath her tell-tale smirk.

 

“Is this an intervention? I promise I didn't drink that much last night.” Her hands were up in mock pacification, and he joined the others as they laughed.

 

“You kept us waiting, Hawke, it's an hour past noon.” He took his jacket from her outstretched hand, slipping it on with little flourish as she sat.

 

“Is it?” The same sarcasm as she pushed some of her bright curls away from her face.

 

“Yes, it is.” Bethany answered, crossing to her sister's side and twisting the curls so they fell away from her eyes with quick movements displaying years of practice. Varric wondered idly how many mornings it was Bethany who kept her wild hair under control. “Luckily Varric sent a note home, or mother would have been up all night worrying.”

 

Hawke waved her off, “Mother would be up worrying anyway, it is a constant state of being.” Bethany laughed at that, her laugh one that would impress the highest ladies of high town with its musical tone.

 

“Well, a beautiful woman should always enter late.” She gave her voice a false high-town air, but the smirk remained. “Right, Varric?”

 

“Don't make a habit of it,” Anders spoke up, pushing her a few stale biscuits which she attacked ravenously. This was the Hawke he would always try to remember, her eyes bright, a constant smirk, and surrounded by friends. If he had known what was to come… had even a hint of the disaster it would turn out to be, he wouldn't have approached Hawke at all.

 

In two days’ time they were ready to leave, all of them meeting in the square where a few dwarven statues remained from the Tevinter days. Hawke had called everyone there, ready to say farewells and to inform the group who would be accompanying her. Bartrand gave his speech, which was as rousing as a nug’s fart, and as they were about to break away to leave Varric spotted Leandra.

 

He attempted to get to her first and quickly defuse the situation, but Bartrand, the tactless ass that he was, spotted her first. “Hey, who invited the old woman?” He bellowed, his eyes narrowing at the matron of house Hawke and Amell. Varric winced, but noticed Leandra didn’t waver. He had to give her credit for her strength, maybe that was where Kerrigan got it from.

 

“Forgive me, Ser Dwarf.” She spoke, her voice even and calm with the fine articulation not befitting someone who lived in the slums of Lowtown. “I must speak with my daughters.”

 

“Be quick about it.” Bartrand growled, his eyes narrowing at Hawke as she and Bethany stepped toward their mother, “We've been waiting here long enough.”

 

“Mother, what are you doing here?” Bethany exclaimed, everyone's eyes were on them, and it was Hawke that moved them away. Varric had meant to move away as well and offer them privacy, but instead he found himself keeping within hearing range. He justified it that he was protecting his own interests, but truly he was doing it to keep himself close at hand to defuse things if necessary.

 

“You are not taking your sister, Kerrigan.” It wasn't even a question as Leandra folded her arms and leveled a commanding stare at her eldest daughter.

 

“If that is all you came for, you simply could have shouted it when you arrived.” Hawke's typical sarcasm and smirking face were in full tilt as she folded her arms against her torso, “It is not as if I'm keeping her.”

 

“Mother-” Bethany interjected, but a stern look silenced her.

 

“I mean it, you will not be taking her with you. I will not allow both my daughters to go on this fool's errand.” Leandra was firm, gesticulating for emphasis as Kerrigan simply shook her head.

 

“We discussed this. It's Bethany's decision, and I will not stop her if she wishes to come with me.” Hawke's voice lost its sardonic edge and was softer as she looked to Bethany.

 

“Mother, I need to go. The templars are already looking for me, if I stay they will surely find me.” Bethany pleaded, embracing her mother with all the kindness that radiated from Sunshine. “I promise we'll be safe, I'll keep us safe.”

 

“Please, Bethany, if I lose you-” Leandra was on the edge of hysterics, her voice broken with pain, And with that Kerrigan stomped away, picking up her pack and pulling things out of it with a violence she normally reserved for killing bandits. Again Varric was tempted to interrupt, to defuse, but dwarven politics had taught him not to interject into familial disputes.

 

“We'll be fine, you'll see.” Bethany reassured, her fingers brushing a tear from her mother.

 

“Just come back to me, my little bird.” Leandra clung to Bethany, tears in her eyes and silent sobs, and Varric finally had enough. He turned and moved toward Kerrigan who was tearing everything out of her pack and laying it out in a heap.

 

“Trouble at home, beautiful?” Varric asked, leaning against the wall as he looked down at her hunched form.

 

“You heard.” Kerrigan spat, and Varric frowned.

 

“I wouldn’t dare-” He started but Kerrigan shot him a look that silenced him.

 

“You do dare, you dare all the time. It’s not like it matters, everyone here knows now.” She looked over her shoulder, and Varric followed it seeing Leandra and Bethany breaking away. Leandra with red eyes. Her wizened fingers grasping Bethany’s hand for a moment longer before leaving.

 

“Rude.” Varric said after a moment, his brow pinching in an anger he fought hard to suppress, “She didn’t even say goodbye.”

 

Kerrigan finished putting her pack back in order save a few articles on the ground that she snatched up. “Why would she bother? She’s hoping I don’t come back.” She didn't give Varric time to respond, moving over to her companions with purpose, and like the shadow he was Varric followed. “Bethany and Aveline will be going with me.” She said with all the command she carried, “For the rest of you, I have gifts.”

 

“Are you sure you don't want to take me along, sweetness?” Varric heard Riviani purr, her arm flung around Hawke's shoulder as their flame-haired leader handed her a dagger with a golden handle. “I'd hate to see you catch cold down there, and I'd be more than happy to ensure that doesn't happen.”

 

“You only want a chance at all the gold.” Hawke teased, and Isabela laughed as she hugged Hawke close, the two women breaking away to share a look Varric could not fathom.

 

“Y-you're sure you have everything you need, Lethallan?” Daisy spoke up, her fingers twisting nervously, and Hawke smiled warmly to her.

 

“I promise, and I'll take those potions you gave me.” That seemed to cheer the small elf, even more so when Hawke wrapped her up in a tight embrace. “I'll see you in a few weeks, and you keep safe while I'm gone.”

This process repeated with each member of their little group, and Varric suddenly realized just how much time she had taken for each of them. Thanklessly checking on them, doing tasks as needed without asking anything in return. She had taken a band of misfits and created a group of companions and friends. She clapped Fenris on the shoulder as he laughed before Blondie was tugging on her elbow and after a few words Varric didn't catch led her away from the group.

 

The others turned their attentions on Bethany, giving her gifts of bandages, potions, food, and drink while Hawke and Anders separated themselves. Varric followed, quietly, assuring himself again that he was just protecting his interests.

 

“I know these maps-” Anders was insisting, his eyes wide and body tense.

 

“I can read a map, Anders.” Hawke deflected, and Varric found himself tensing as he watched Anders grab her shoulders.

 

“You don't know what it's like down there, Hawke. I can sense them, you need me down there.” Blondie's grip became tighter on her shoulders and his fingers reached for Bianca reflexively. He almost pulled her from her sling when Hawke pressed a firm hand against his chest and he let go.

 

“I understand your concern, Anders, but I need to take my sister with me.” Her voice was firm, and it seemed to deflate the wild mage as Anders's brow drooped in that strange mixture of moping and brooding that only he could do.

 

“Promise me you'll be careful.” Anders said, his voice full of emotion and a look in his eye that was a touch too familiar. Hawke responded but being at her six he didn't catch it, and he saw Anders move as if to embrace her. There must have been something in the look on his face, because the Anders suddenly noticed him, and after meeting eyes with Varric, he quickly excused himself. If Hawke was sweet on Blondie he was going to have to have a talk with the girl, the mage was definitely not his first choice.

 

“More problems?” He asked approaching her with more ease than he felt.

 

“Nothing that I couldn't handle,” She was smirking again, and he nodded. The two moved two paces apart, both staring at the little crowd of companions she had amassed during her short time in Kirkwall. Her eyes were focused on Bethany as she hugged Merrill and laughed. There were tears in Kerrigan's eyes making their usual aquamarine shimmer, and Varric felt something within him twist. There was envy as well as fear in their depths. He had to stop himself from reaching out to her in comfort, but she recovered quickly. Hawke’s fingers rubbed her tears away, and her trademark smirk replaced the frown that was there just a moment before.

 

“We'd best get going, I heard Bartrand growling that if we didn't make it to the coast by nightfall he'd make us march through the night.” Kerrigan said, her voice almost a whisper.

“And with Bartrand that is no idle threat.” Varric gave her a smirk and wink before they joined up with the others, saying final goodbyes. That look stayed with him all throughout the parting. Her lips thinned with a frown, eyes sparkling with tears she wouldn't shed and fear in her gaze. It was like a ghost image over her even as she laughed with her friends, hugged or shook their hands, he saw those sparkling eyes full of fear.

 

They made good time once they got on the road, enough to set camp near the shore before the sun set. That first night under the stars was memorable, a ragtag bunch of men and women dreaming of the riches of the Deep Roads, and a few dreading the dangers. Ale and food, laughter and songs. Dwarves, humans, and elves all hoping to better their lot through this trip.

Kerrigan had broken into song by her third pint, singing about the great Chasind battles with slurs swallowing words. Her arm thrown around Bethany's shoulder as they both laughed, even Aveline was chuckling as she sharpened her blade near the fire. As the night wore on Varric told stories, regaling their mixed company with the tale of the Warden. Laughter abound, as well as shock and awe as he got through the first great stanza before calling it a night. They each disappeared to separate spaces, Bethany and Hawke sharing a tent, Aveline taking watch, and Varric finding a comfortable spot near the fire for his bedroll. Unlike the others he was aware how long this could take, and he was going to keep where he could see that beautiful sky and its stars while the opportunity was still there.

 

The next day they reached their intended entrance, overgrown with brush and debris. It had taken a good half-day to clear it, but they got it done and torches were quickly being handed out to the scouts as the standard hirelings began to break down the carts for their trek. He and Hawke used it as an excuse to check over equipment and he was adjusting the tension in the cocking-rig for Bianca when Sunshine approached him.

 

“Have you ever been in the Deep Roads, Varric?” Her voice soft with worry as she turned her staff over idly in her hands.

 

“No, Sunshine.” Varric answered as he turned Bianca over in his fingers, checking to make sure that the tension springs held firm. “I generally avoid it, too dark, too cramped and full of stale air and darkspawn.”

 

“A claustrophobic dwarf? That's one for the books.” He hadn't heard Hawke approach, but there she was. Her hands on the top of her long bow as she gave him her best smirk and used one hand to shove a chunk of hair away from her face.

 

“Trust me, Hawke, a few days down there and you will be too.” He set Bianca back in her sling, his fingers adjusting his gloves as he continued to speak, “If it wasn't for the fact that I couldn't talk Bartrand out of it, I wouldn't be a part of this little 'adventure' at all.”

 

“But Varric,” Hawke said, her voice playful as she opened her arms for emphasis “think of the stories.”

 

“Stories are only good if you live to tell them.” He winked, and she laughed in return.

 

“Come on you Blighters!” He heard Bartrand yell, his voice booming to the whole group. “Let's get going, everyone who is coming get your asses down that hole.”

 

“Ah, eloquent Bartrand.” Varric observed, shaking his head, “After you Serrah Hawke.” She gave a false curtsey, adjusting her quiver before following the scouts into the caves.

 

They marched for twelve straight hours the first two days without so much as a sign of darkspawn. A few deep stalkers that were killed for meat (how his ancestors ate this on a regular basis was beyond Varric's topsider understanding) were the only hostile force they had met. By the end of the second day everyone was growing tense, and Varric was growing bored. Despite everything Bartrand had told him, the Deep Roads held none of the grandeur that had been described to him. It was just room after room of rock with an oppressive heat from the lava fields and an ominous orange glow that mixed with the red of lyrium veins. He had taken to teaching Hawke dwarven drinking songs, knowing her passion for Fereldan ones, and she was enthusiastic for the opportunity.

 

Her voice was a bit too high, and not anywhere near gravely enough, to do proper justice to the music, but listening to her butcher the long dead language amused him enough. By the third day she was no longer mispronouncing most of the words, and while her voice was still too high he had noticed it had a good timber. They were all tense now as they had no confrontation with darkspawn. Even the deep stalkers were becoming few and far-between. The place was quiet and Kerrigan's horrid crooning seemed to keep the hirelings calm, and it especially calmed Sunshine who had a bad habit of jumping at the slightest noise.

 

Unfortunately it didn't amuse everyone. As Kerrigan was about to start her third rendition of the song of the Paragon of Drinking he saw Aveline tense up, and then stop all together and turned to face Hawke.

 

“Could you two stop singing dwarven love songs to each other?” Aveline growled, her body tense with three days of forced march and eyes narrowed in warning at both of them.

 

If she hoped that would be enough, she would be mistaken. Without missing a beat Varric winked to Kerrigan before grasping his chest in mock pain. “Oh no, my dearest Serrah Hawke, we’ve been discovered, whatever shall we do?” His normal even timber dropped in favor of the dramatic as he stumbled with a false wound.

 

To her credit, Kerrigan picked it right up, opening her arms wide as she shouted, “Take me, you mad Dwarven stallion! We need no longer hide our love!” She flung her arms around him, stooping so they were the same height as she laughed hysterically.

 

“Shut it, both of you!” He heard Bartrand yell as Varric grabbed onto Hawke feeling her shoulders shake with a feeble attempt to stifle her laughter. He patted her back as she seemed to come to her senses again and stood, wiping at her eyes.

 

“I swear I don’t know which is worse,” Aveline grumbled, taking up point once more as Kerrigan fully recovered and moved back to her proper position at Aveline‘s right, “the singing or that pathetic display.”

 

“Really?” Kerrigan asked, and Varric winced as he saw the grin spreading across Kerrigan’s face. “Then we can go back to singing?”

 

“No.” Aveline said, a warning glower directed at Kerrigan along with it.

 

“Alright, alright,” Kerrigan cooed, smiling good-naturedly as she patted Aveline on the shoulder, “no more dwarven songs.”

 

Aveline seemed to accept that, giving Kerrigan what passed for the guardswoman's smile.

 

They resumed their uneventful walk in the deep roads, but had made perhaps ten paces when a sudden cry rung out, “Stop!” They grabbed their weapons, running toward the front of the line only to see a scout waving them to halt. “Stop!” He called again and Bartrand moved to intercept him.

 

“We heard you the first time!” Bartrand growled, glaring down the pale scout. He was afraid, (Varric was excellent at reading expressions) and this was not ran-into-darkspawn afraid. For one thing his trousers were still dry. This was fear of Bartrand, and he knew it well from having plenty of time to see it over the years.

 

“Problems?” Kerrigan asked, her bow now being used as something to lean against as she turned her blue-green eyes on him.

 

Varric shrugged, “With Bartrand, who knows?” He looked over seeing the scout talking hastily with his brother, he was actually shaking the poor sod. “You could tell him you found the lyrium mother lode and he'd still treat you like you'd insulted our mother.” Just as he said that Bartrand swung, knocking the poor scout in the jaw and onto his backside. “Well, now we know it’s bad news.”

 

Kerrigan laughed at that, not flinching even as Bartrand rounded on the two of them. “I’m glad you two seem to find this hilarious.” He said, his tone vicious as he glared at Varric.

 

“We can’t all be as commanding a presence as you, brother.” He responded, and received a rather rude gesture in return.

 

“Make camp!” Their de facto leader yelled. Varric and Kerrigan met gazes at the same time, before shrugging and slinging their weapons once more. It took close to two hours to make camp despite their proficiency at it after three days down here in the dusk and gloom. Bartrand spent the entire duration arguing with his scouts, and finally Varric approached when he saw one of the scouts shaking as Bartrand was digging into some surprisingly original insults about his mother.

 

“Something amiss, brother?” Varric asked, attempting to sound as neutral as possible. Even so Bartrand whirled on him, eyes narrowed.

 

“Sodding Deep Roads!” He cursed, the scouts taking this an opportunity to get out of the way of Bartrand's fury. “The way is blocked, damned cave in by Andraste's tits. It'll take days to dig through it.”

 

“Surely taking a side path is the most reasonable option.” Varric offered, still fighting to keep neutrality even as he saw Bartrand close his fist.

 

“Do I look stupid, Varric?” Bartrand threatened, and while usually Varric would make light of such a comment he kept his mouth closed. “The side passage is too dangerous, the scouts said there were obvious signs of darkspawn in the caves.”

 

“See? This is why you bring someone like me along.” Varric started with the sound of Kerrigan right beside him. Last he saw her she was eating her ration, but quiet as a mouse she had appeared beside him. He winced inwardly as he saw Bartrand turning toward her in his fury. Bartrand wouldn't hit Varric, he knew better, but taking a swing at Kerrigan was suicide.

 

“We'll go take a look. If we come running back, screaming, then you'll know staying put was the right decision.” He quickly interjected, and that finally seemed to deflate Bartrand's rage.

 

“Fine, fine! Just be quick about it.” The surly dwarf cursed under his breath as he left them behind, Kerrigan and Varric sharing a look and then a shrug at Bartrand's behavior.

 

“I'll get Aveline and Sunshine ready to go. See you at the entrance in five.” They both nodded, and Varric watched from his periphery as one of their suppliers, Bodahn he believed his name was, flagged her over. The man was ringing his hands and talking with a great amount of emphasis as Hawke's brow knotted. Great that was all they needed, more problems. “Ladies!” Varric exclaimed jovially, opening his arms to the two. They sat near one of the light lamps, it was so warm from the lava you didn't need campfires here, Aveline checking over her armor as Bethany was fiddling with her staff again.

 

“What's going on, Varric?” Bethany's voice was as tense as her body as she turned the staff over again.

 

“Did Bartrand scare you there, Sunshine?” Varric's voice was soft and he moved to the girl's side, his amber eyes looking into her blue ones. “He's just a lot of talk Bartrand, he wouldn't really feed you to a dragon as a virgin sacrifice.”

 

“Did he say that?” Bethany's eyes grew wide with fear, and he could swear he saw the edge of tears in them. He was about to elude upon Bartrand's threat when a bloom of pain dragged his attention to the fact that Aveline had punched him in the arm, hard too. . .that was going to bruise.

 

“Stop that, Varric, she's nervous enough as it is.” Aveline growled, giving him a grin of satisfaction as he rubbed the spot where her fist had connected.  
“Don't worry, Sunshine. Even if he did threaten something like that, Kerrigan would string him up by his boots and leave him down here if he tried.” It didn't seem to reassure her much as she went from turning her staff to digging into the ground with it, and her fingers were white with how tight she held it.

 

“So what are you here for Varric, I hope it wasn't just to tease Bethany.” Aveline looked sidelong at him, before she returned to sewing up her under padding.

 

“There's been a cave in, so we're going to attempt to find a way around.” Varric felt a nervous prick as Bethany stared at him.

 

“You mean we need to go where the darkspawn are.” Her voice was quiet, and he thought he heard it wavering as if she had started to shiver.

 

“Now who told you that, Sunshine?” He kneeled down to her, making sure they were eye to eye.

 

“I'm not stupid, Varric. The reason we have to go down the side path is because it's too dangerous for everyone to go.” She clutched her wand, turning her head as fear passed across her face more viscerally than Varric had ever seen before. “And if it's too dangerous, that means darkspawn.”

 

“It might,” Varric admitted, moving to keep eye contact with her when she tried to move her head, “but that's not a sure thing, we haven't seen any darkspawn. So let's just go take a look and if it's too dangerous we'll come right back.”

 

“Have you ever seen them, Varric?” It was Aveline who spoke up this time, her words clipped as she set down her armor.

 

He frowned, “No.” He confessed, looking back to Bethany. “But I've heard the stories.”

 

“Then you don't know why Bethany is so afraid.” Aveline stood up, doing one more check of the armor before beginning to strap herself into it. Bethany was up in an instant to help her, obviously desperate to have something to keep her mind off of it. “For all your love of stories, they can never give someone true fear.”

 

Varric was about to argue the point when Kerrigan approached, a smile on her lips that was hiding that edge of fear in her eyes. Maybe Aveline was right if the concept of a side path had Kerrigan on edge. “What's taking you so long?” She asked, looking over to the others.

 

“Is it true we're going to scout out a side path?” Bethany's voice hid nothing, if anything it amplified the fear as she crossed to Kerrigan and reached for her hand. “Are there darkspawn?”

 

“There might be.” She admitted, but her smile never wavered. “But that's why we're going together, we all know the risks of darkspawn and we'll be careful.” She squeezed her sister's hand reassuringly, “Besides, Bodahn's boy got away from the group and I'm not going to leave him down here. Wrex is so fond of him.” That seemed to bring some of the cheer back to Bethany, and she picked up her staff. Aveline finished with her armor and they stepped toward the side path, it being much thinner than this main thorough-fare.

 

“Nervous, Hawke?” Varric asked, trying to keep his voice down as Bethany looked about ready to jump out of her skin and go running for the sunlight.

 

“Nothing I can't handle.” Is all she replied as Bethany came up to her side, she was playing with her staff again. Kerrigan reached out and stilled her fingers, a smile on her lips before they threaded their fingers together.

 

“I'm scared, Kerrigan.” Bethany whispered, her eyes looking at the passage ahead and Varric could swear he saw her shudder.

 

“It's ok, Bethany.” She squeezed her hand, a large smile on her face. “It's just like getting water from the well at night. You were so sure the Witches of the Wilds were going to come get you, remember?”

 

“I've met a Witch of the Wilds,” Bethany countered, her fingers gripping tight to Kerrigan's, “I think I'm more afraid of the darkspawn.”

 

“If you get scared, just stick close to me.” She gave her hand another squeeze and finally released with a large smile. “I kept you safe from templars, a Blight, and Flemeth herself. I doubt the Deep Roads have anything more impressive than a woman who can turn into a dragon.” That seemed to finally calm her, and the two shared one small smile before Kerrigan took the first steps into that side passage, and whatever it was that lay ahead.


	4. Loss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The journey into the deep road continues, as Varric and crew deal with Bartrand's betrayal, and the desperate escape from the deep roads.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to my beta, spectreantihero, and to those who have commented and Kudo'd. This was a doozy of a chapter, and I hope you all enjoy it.

Everything from that moment had been a mistake. The old thaig, the idol, the betrayal. Varric felt his skin tighten and brows knit together just thinking about it. Bartrand, his own brother, selling him out for coin. He had joked the guild would sell their mothers, but had always thought Bartrand wanted out just like he did. All this time that was the goal he worked toward, freedom from the guild and its politics. He had tried once and failed, he was determined to do it this time. To finally have enough money and power to get them both away from the debts of their parents. Give them an opportunity to actually build something, but apparently the time with the guild had changed Bartrand. His talk of this walk down into the damned passages of their ancestors being the way out was bullshit, it was a way for him to get all the riches for himself even if he had to spill familial blood on his hands to get it.

 

“Fucking nug-humper.” He growled to himself as he pulled up the rear of their little party. All their packs were heavy with the best pieces they could carry from the hunger demon's stash, but that was hardly a comfort. They were still in the Deep Roads, with no sure way out and very little in the way of food or water. If they made it out they would be rich, and he could buy his own freedom without that backstabbing bastard who didn't deserve the Tethras name he valued so highly. He felt his veins thrum with rage he couldn't quell, not until he had a bolt in the chamber and Bartrand down field. The problem was they had to actually make it out, and with so little in the way of supplies that didn't seem likely. Damn it all to Andraste's pyre.

 

“Your face is going to get stuck like that.” The sudden voice next to him made him stumble, foot catching a rock as his head jerked upward to see Kerrigan beside him. He righted himself quickly, narrowly avoiding the embarrassment of having her catch him.

 

“That's just something human mothers say to make their children stop pouting.” Varric retorted, adjusting his grip on Bianca as he looked over to her. She was smiling at him, how they hell could she smile? He had gotten her wrapped up in all this, may have gotten them all killed due to his need to not put himself into any more debt with the guild.

 

“Does it work?” She was still smiling at him, not a smirk but a genuine smile. There was caring in her gaze, and it gave him a bit of comfort that he quickly buried beneath guilt and rage.

 

“I'll have you know, Hawke, that dwarves do not pout. Scowl? Yes. Brood? Rarely. But never pout.” He his best scowl to use as he demonstrated his point, but he must have done something wrong as Hawke started laughing. “I do believe that is not the correct reaction to a scowl, Serrah Hawke.”

 

“Forgive me, Serrah Tethras.” She could barely contain her laughter as she spoke, her sentences broken up by giggles, “but normally people don't smile when they're scowling.”

 

He had been smiling? He hadn't noticed it before, but she was right. Her grin was apparently as infectious as the taint for since she had started talking to him he had relaxed, his shoulders dropping from their tense hunch, his grip on Bianca more loose. He shrugged as his smile turned into a playful smirk, “I can't help but smile, I would not dare worry such a beautiful and delicate woman as yourself with my own unhappiness.”

 

“And who says I'm worried?” She countered, her eyes pointed forward as they walked through a chamber that looked almost exactly like the last three except this one held no darkspawn. “The ladies of Kirkwall would never forgive me if the city's most eligible bachelor came back disfigured.”

 

He laughed then for what felt like the first time in ages, “You never know, Hawke, it may just increase my charm.” He gave off a wise, all knowing air as he spoke. “I hear that there are many women who enjoy a man slightly disfigured. I hear there is quite a market for dashing adventurers with scars.”

 

“Only if the scars come with stories.” She was looking at him from the corner of her eyes, that easy grin on her pink colored lips and the blush caused by laughter on her cheeks.

 

“Hawke, you should know by now that everything about me comes with a story.” He winked, she laughed, and it was like they were back at the Hanged Man drinking and making toasts and promises. The smile died on his lips, they were down here because of Bartrand, but also because of himself. Because he brought Hawke on and if anything happened while they were down here - - that was on him too. “Let's just concentrate on getting out of here. We'll have one hell of a story once we reach topside.”

 

Quiet stretched for ages, all of them walking slow through the large empty chambers. These weren't as arid as the ones they had passed through to get to that damn idol, and while that meant there was a chance of water, it concerned him. It meant they were moving away from the open lava flows that were beneath them along the way. Kerrigan raised up her fist where they could all see it, bringing them to her.

 

“There's a spring nearby.” Varric's brow rose when Kerrigan stated it. Sure even he could feel that there was water in the air, but by the Ancestor's beards how was she so sure? How was she so sure of everything? He never saw her doubt, and it was rare that something even made her hesitate. Now she could fucking sense water, of course. She was his idolized story hero, who always found what they needed and got them out. Now she was just living up to it. He rolled his eyes, and pulled out the map he kept inside his jacket, Kerrigan insisted he keep it on him, and began looking for any mention of water.

 

“Hawke, are you sure? I don't see anything about a spring on here.” He indicated the map with a finger, and Kerrigan stopped a hushed conversation with Aveline to cross over to him.

 

She lifted the map slightly, taking a corner and leaning over it. She had to capture her curls so they didn't obscure everything and Varric found himself wondering, and not for the first time, why she never tied her hair back. It was just begging to get snagged, or for some bandit to grab her by it. She couldn't even keep it inside a helmet, it was too thick and wild. “A little faith, Varric.” She teased as she brought her nose closer to the old map, stooping slightly so she and Varric were at the same height before she pointed her finger some thirty paces outside a nearby offshoot of the main road. “We'll camp here and restock our water supply. The spring should be about five paces off from here if I'm any judge.”

 

“If we keep pushing-” Aveline suggested, but Kerrigan shook her head.

 

“I'm exhausted.” Bethany whined, childlike, as she leaned against her staff. She had been a tightly wound wire since they were abandoned, her fingers clutching her staff and eyes flitting like an indecisive bird. This was the first time he had seen her relax even slightly. “If we keep going for much longer I'll be asleep on my feet.”

 

“Sunshine's right, much more of this and we're just going to get ourselves lost. We already have chamber after chamber that looks the damn same.” Varric gestured with a gloved hand before shaking his head, “I am starting to be concerned for the sanity of my fellow dwarves, what idiot lives down here on purpose?”

 

“We don't have time for a history lesson.” Kerrigan's voice was showing her own exhaustion as she looked around. “Let's go check for the spring, and find a good campsite.” Kerrigan gave one final glance at the map before pointing to a small doorway about five paces from where they were currently standing.

 

“Oh good, another side path.” Varric said with sarcastic enthusiasm, his mood souring as he looked down the doorway that matched the one that had led them to Bartrand's betrayal, damn him. “Nothing bad ever happens on side paths.”

 

“Now that's a proper scowl.” She gave him a wink before heading down the path, and once more he felt himself soften. How did she do it? How was she not angry at him? This was partly his fault, she had to know that. Instead she just smiled at him like she always did, like this was just some walk down the Wounded Coast where all they had to worry about was bandits. “Come on, or we'll leave you behind.”

 

“Coming, m'lady.” He gave a bow, before pulling Bianca tight to him and jogging the few paces to catch up with the lot of them.

 

The chambers were quiet, only broken by the sound of Kerrigan's dagger on the doorways. Three lateral slices, showing them where they had been. There were no darkspawn here, and it had them on edge after all the fighting to get there.

 

They finally reached the chamber, and Varric could only stare. There was sunlight coming in from a large hole in the ceiling of an immense chamber, and from it poured pure water into a deep pool. It was so clear you could see the bottom no matter how far you looked, and it was only broken by the mist and ripples from the falls.

 

Kerrigan was beside him again, grinning wide as she looked out at the water. “Do you want to take on Andraste as the one true prophet? Because this seems like a damned miracle Hawke.” Varric's voice gave away his wonder as he stared at it.

 

She laughed anyway, shaking her head as she watched Aveline and Bethany drinking happily from the shore. “I didn't see this in any dream, Varric.”

 

“How then?” Varric couldn't look away from the water, like it was a mirage that was going to disappear on him at any moment.

 

“I heard the water, and eventually figured out how far it was.” She shrugged, and Varric couldn't help but laugh.

 

“When you kept putting your ear to the ground I thought you were listening for footsteps, you were listening for water?” Varric asked, he had heard of trackers using it for prey, but water was a new one.

 

“My father taught me it. We're lucky I heard it… without water and food we aren't going to have much strength to keep walking.” She pulled her bow from its sling and an arrow from its quiver, the feathers to guide its flight soft white from one of her last group of arrows “I'm going to go see if there is fish in that water. Can you set up the tents?”

 

“If you come back with fish, I'll do anything you want.” Varric responded, feeling his stomach clench with the promise of food.

 

“Don't make promises you won't keep, dwarf.” She said, grinning lecherously before throwing him her pack.

 

He stumbled under the weight of it, but shot her a grin anyway. “What's to say I won't keep it?”

 

“Tease!” She shouted over her shoulder, and started kicking off her boots. He moved to help Aveline and Bethany with the camp still chuckling to himself.

 

Finally off her feet Bethany seemed to be relaxing, fingers braiding her hair idly as Aveline began setting up the fire circle and Varric reached into Kerrigan's pack to get her tent supplies and bedroll.

 

“Where's Kerrigan?” Bethany asked after a moment, her hair pinned back as she started pulling supplies out of her own pack.

 

“Hunting for food, she's hoping there's fish in that water.” Varric answered, pulling out her tent and stakes as Bethany began setting holes with her staff.

 

“Good,” He heard Aveline say as she was doing the same with her own chosen campsite. “If there are fish in the water we can dry some, have more supplies for the rest of the trek.”

 

“How far out do you think we are?” Bethany asked, looking to Varric as he set the first spike on Kerrigan's thin-leather tent.

 

“Two - three days unless there is a cave in on the way.” He set the second tent spike, moving toward the third as Bethany shadowed him. “Maybe a week from the surface.”

 

“So long?” There was that nervous tone again as she set the hole for the fourth spike.

 

“Don't worry Sunshine, we'll be fine.” He stepped over to her, and gave her his best smile. He was sure it didn't have the sheer confidence Kerrigan did, but it seemed to calm her. “We've already been underground a week, and marched for almost two days. All we have to do is get back to the main path, and it's already been cleared, it'll be nice and easy from there.”

 

“You're right.” Bethany finally said, her own body language easing as she began pulling up the ropes and helped him set the tent. By the time they were finished Kerrigan was back with four large fish and a grin on her lips.

 

“Dinner's here!” Bethany cried, spotting Kerrigan first and running over to her sister. They had already set the fire, one of the best parts of having a mage, and Bethany quickly brought them over to Aveline to clean.

 

“Good work, Hawke.” Aveline said, with the same look of ravenous hunger the rest of them had.

 

“Just make sure you leave the biggest for me.” Kerrigan boasted, a laugh on her lips as she assisted Aveline in getting the fish set for roasting, and reclaiming her arrows before standing up again.

 

“Where are you going? Dinner's already here.” Varric asked with a grin, but Kerrigan shook her head.

 

“I'm going to go catch a few more, I'm starving.” She said, checking the arrowhead before slipping the arrow back into her quiver.

 

“How do you keep your figure with how much you eat?” Varric teased, grabbing Bianca as she stood.

 

She turned on him then, pulling her arrow and aiming it squarely at him. For a moment he felt his body tense and the very real fear that she'd let it loose on him, but then he saw her grin behind the bow. “Never insinuate about a woman's weight, in Antiva that is a killing offense.” She held the tension on the string, before finally dropping it and laughing.

 

“Since when are you knowledgeable about killing offenses in Antiva?” He challenged as he walked toward the water with her.

 

“Everything is a killing offense in Antiva.” She said, that classic smirk on her lips as she rolled up her deerskin trousers and looked out at the water. “And since when do you know anything about fishing?”

 

“I don't,” he pulled Bianca's cocking ring and watched the tension springs pull out with that twang sweet as any music, “and I bet I will still get more fish than you.”

 

“You're on, dwarf.”

 

In the end Kerrigan had beaten him, truly beaten him into the dirt. For every one fish he would catch, she would catch three and still not run out of arrows. She said nothing in the end, merely picked up her pile and gave them to Aveline. The smell of food relaxed each of them, and the promise of plenty of fresh water eased the remaining tension of the trek that brought them here.

 

Bethany and Aveline took time to bathe while Kerrigan kept watch, and Varric kept the fish cooking. They'd have dried fish to last them two times the expected journey, he hoped. By the time he had finished Aveline had picked up the watch and Kerrigan was nowhere to be found. Bethany had headed to bed the moment she got out of the water, her hair still dripping as she pushed her way into her tent, her staff waiting at the entrance just in case. The poor kid, she was handling it all well enough, but she was not made for this sort of trek. Perhaps Kerrigan had slipped off to bed as well, her bow and quiver sat next to the tent.

 

Varric decided this would be his chance to have a dip in that water himself. He smelled like a bronto in heat, which is not a pleasant smell by any stretch of the imagination. He placed his coat down, before putting Bianca on top of it, cradling the crossbow like a child. He froze when he heard a chuckle coming from behind him.

 

“I know how much you love that crossbow, but don't you think that's a bit excessive?” He knew her voice immediately, shaking his head as he heard the soft splash of the water. The chamber was dark now, lit by firelight and what moonlight crept through the large crag in the ceiling, but she was there, he could hear her in the ripples of the water.

 

“Forgive me, m'lady. I did not realize this pool was occupied.” He bowed, reaching down to grab his coat when another throaty laugh stopped him.

 

“Suddenly shy, Varric?” There was something in the way she said it that made his face flush. He was thankful for the darkness, and he heard another splash, closer this time. “I won't bite, and it's safer with both of us here.”

 

“I wouldn't dare impugn your honor, m'lady Hawke.” He expected her to leave it at that, but instead he heard her move even closer.

 

“Come now,” He heard her tease as she splashed a bit of water in his direction. “It's too dark to see anything. I promise I won't peek if you won't.”

 

He almost refused, he almost grabbed his coat and put it back on his shoulders. Something in him didn't want to, and even bought the lie that it would be safer with both of them there. “Fair enough, but I catch you gazing at me with brazen lust I am getting right back out, clear?”

 

“Wouldn't dream of it.” She promised as he heard the splashes of her moving further into the pool.

 

He undressed quickly before noisily pushing into the water, it was freezing but the cleanness of it felt wonderful. He kept his hair tied, but was tempted to let it down just to truly get out the grime of fighting darkspawn, rock wraiths, and the smell of the Deep Roads. “I should warn you beautiful, dwarves don't swim.”

 

“Truly? I always thought that was a myth.” She was closer now, but he still hadn't caught sight of her. One moment he could swear she was to his left, and then she was to his right the next time he'd hear her laugh or the splash of water that gave her away.

 

He frowned as he stepped deeper, feeling the water moving past his navel and tried to suppress a shiver. “Why do you think we burrowed under the oceans rather than making boats? Trust me, we don't swim.”

 

Then there she was, like a silver fish he caught sight of her in the moonlight as she dived beneath the ripples created by the waterfall. It was beautiful, light skin reflecting the silver moon and the bright red of her hair like streams of fresh blood in a near white landscape. She surfaced a moment later, and caught him staring as she pushed her hair out of her face. Even in water it retained its curl, but relaxed laying long swirls of it pooling on the water's surface and hiding her away. He turned away and let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. Isabela was right, it wasn't her leathers that made her look that way.

 

“I thought we agreed to a no peeking rule?” She was suddenly very close, he hadn't even heard her move, but there she was a few steps away with her shoulders and head sticking out of the water. Everything else was hidden by that long mess of hair she kept, and he was suddenly grateful he hadn't brought up the idea of her cutting it.

 

“I did not peek, Serrah Hawke.” His voice gave away his offense, his eyes kept averted from her as best he could. She swam a slow, lazy circle around him as he kept talking. “But with all that splashing around you're doing I was concerned some great beast of the pond had been awoken. You cannot expect me to sit idly by whilst some great beast gobbles you whole.”

 

“Bullshit.” Was Kerrigan's only response, and her fingers brushed past his, and then grabbed onto them and gave a tug. “Come on, it's not deep.”

 

Despite the coolness of the water her fingers were hot, laced between his. She didn't clutch, if anything those interlocked fingers barely held, and he could have removed his hand at any time. Her fingers were thin and long compare to his thick and short fingers. It was like these two sets of fingers showed all the differences between them, she was thin and long, tall and all legs. He was short, stocky, with broad shoulders and the short gait that came from being a dwarf.

 

She kept her distance as she led him where the water only came over his shoulders, but his feet were always on the sand and pebble bottom of the pool. If it wasn't for them being in the Deep Roads, miles from an exit, and surrounded by darkspawn, this place may have been idyllic. “Where are we going Hawke?”

 

She turned to him, her hands staying in his and holding tight to his fingers, her red hair spread out in a halo around her and dipping or swirling with her movements. The water obscured the rest of her into an odd mix of pale flesh and silver reflection. “Trust me.”

 

That was all she said, and all he needed. He did trust her, despite Bartrand it never made him question her, if anything it made him trust her all the more. It was strange, he was realizing, just how easy she was to trust. All of them brought to her and simply trusted in her, and never even questioning it.

 

They were at the waterfall, a high pedestal of rock breaking the torrent of water to a mist around it, haloing the light from above. “I thought you might want to talk, away from prying ears.” She began to slip her fingers from his own and he tensed holding her hand tight, before finally letting go. She moved from the natural shoal to deeper waters, out of his reach. He felt the loss from that heat of her fingers, realizing that her whole body must be warm despite the chill of the water, he suppressed another shudder.

 

“What makes you think that?” He asked, though he probably need not bother. She was right, he had been trying to figure out the right time to speak with her since that sodding idol.

 

“You've been making eyes at me since we left the rock wraiths.” She was propped up against that rising platform of rock. Her arms crossing over it as she used it to pull herself half out of the water, her body pressed up against the odd curves of the rock and even brighter pale in the moonlight. She had freckles on her shoulders, Varric had never noticed that before. He'd have to remember to mention them, that'd really get Blondie's feathers ruffling.

 

“I could just be taken in by your beauty,” He kept his eyes away from the way her body was pressed against the rock. Beauty was not worth losing his head over, even hers, and especially not right now. He focused in on those bright blue-green eyes instead as they gazed back at him with the same intensity. “Perhaps that beauty has captivated me and I am attempting to find my way to confess my undying love.”

 

Kerrigan laughed, slipping from the rock and diving beneath the cool water before coming back up beside him. She was smirking, her red hair in her eyes as she glared at him. “The day you confess your love to me, is the day I become viscount of Kirkwall.”

 

“I didn't say it was believable, just that it could be.” He gave her a smile, she laughed and it was almost like this was normal. He forgot about the fact that he was naked, with a naked young woman, not two paces from him, a beautiful naked woman. Perhaps he hadn't forgotten as much as he played off. He pushed his thoughts elsewhere, to the things he had been trying to figure out how to say these past two days.

 

“I trust you, Varric.” The words pulled him out of his thoughts, Kerrigan had disappeared again, now off to his left and treading water in one of the deeper portions of the pool. “It's strange, since our meeting was an obvious set up.”

 

“You saw through that, huh?” For not the first time in their time getting to know one another he was surprised. He shook his head, running a hand against the stubble on his chin with a soft laugh on his lips. “I guess I shouldn't be surprised that you knew.”

 

“No, you shouldn't.” There was that smug tone in her voice as she swam a bit closer, but kept a large distance between them. He had missed when the red appeared on her cheeks, but now it was painfully obvious as she moved out of his range and kept herself there. “I don't blame you. Not for any of this.”

 

She hit the topic flat on like a nail into his heart, and he found himself out of breath. Varric recovered quickly, shaking his head as he looked at her. “Hawke, I deserve some of it. I shouldn't have brought you down here.”

 

“You couldn't have known-”

 

“Yes, yes I did.” Varric cut her off, amber eyes fierce as he gazed up at the waterfall. “Bartrand has always been a lying and backstabbing Maferath. I should have seen it coming.”

 

“No.” She was suddenly beside him again, and her fingers grabbed onto his wrist, tugging to make him look down at her. All that hair swishing around her and a few wisps of it brushed his leg with the current. She almost looked like a mermaid in the old legends, ready to drag him deeper and drown him as mermaids always did. “You couldn't have known, Varric.”

 

Part of him wanted to grab her, shake her and make her see that this was his fault. Make her understand that she should hate him, instead he just sighed and pulled his hand free of her fingers. “Even if you don't blame me, I will blame myself.” His words were icy, his demeanor stoic and when he looked at her he was surprised by the fact that she shied away from him. He scared her, something in the look on his face was enough to make her move back into the deep waters where he couldn't follow. “I will make this up to you, Hawke. Whether you let me or not.”

 

She didn't say anything, just looked down into the water before diving beneath it, and for a moment he felt fear grip him. She wouldn't drown herself, or try to force the dwarf who couldn't swim to go in after her, even Hawke wasn't that stubborn. He felt relief when he saw the silver of her skin and red of her hair as she disappeared to the far side of the rock.

 

They bathed in silence, Varric taking the time to let the knot of his hair down and feeling the full chill of the pool as he scrubbed what he could of the Deep Roads out of it. He rubbed it from his arms, his chest, his feet, desperate to be free of the stench of the long dead dwarven empire, and knowing all too well that the moment he replaced his clothes he would stink of it again.

 

Kerrigan was strangely silent, only small splashes could be heard over the waterfall. He frowned as he looked up at the small of patch of sky. He had forgotten how wonderful it was to see the stars, even if most of the view was obscured by trees above. He heard Kerrigan come closer and do the same near him, but not close enough that he could get to her, keeping herself hidden in the deeper waters. He slowly put his hair back up, fingers used to the motion doing so without him even having to devote a thought to it.

 

“It's beautiful out there,” Varric said quietly, gazing up at the few twinkling stars that broke through the leaves. “I can't wait to be sleeping under sky again instead of all this rock.”

 

Kerrigan only gave a small hum in response, before reaching out and finding his hand again, “Come on, I'll lead you back.”

 

Their fingers remained separate this time, only her fingers barely holding his wrist lead him away from the moonlight and back into the dark toward the campfire. They said nothing, moving in silence as they made their way back to the shore. She let him go and disappeared behind some rocks, and he couldn't help looking when he heard the sound of wet water and skin as she pulled herself out. She was beautiful, one of the most beautiful women he'd ever seen, unashamed as she stood on the sand and shoal that passed for a beach. Her legs long and well-toned, a full and round ass, breasts that rose from her ribs and were at least a handful, powerful arms and long, delicate fingers. She pulled out a long strip of fabric and began drying herself, and Varric forced himself to look away. The image was burned into his mind all the same, bright eyes and hair, white skin and freckles. He felt the pull of heat from his loins, hot like her fingers had been, like her whole body must be. Heat and silk, and part of him almost acted on it, almost called Hawke over to allow himself to enjoy a more carnal desire. Then he caught sight of Bianca sitting on the shore, and reminded himself once again that beauty was not worth it, he'd lost his head to beauty once he wasn't doing it again. He was also thankful for the cold of the water as it took what little desire he had left. He dressed quickly, putting on filthy dress and the stink of their journey thus far, but it was a little less pungent and that would have to do.

 

He was slinging Bianca across his back when Hawke emerged again, back in her battledress. He gave her a small nod, and she gave one in return. She crossed over to him, looking down at him as her wet hair dripped against the rock beneath her feet. “I meant it, when I said I trusted you. Not everyone gets to bathe with me.” She was smirking, normal and safe and he found himself returning it.

 

“That's just because you know I'm immune to your charms.” He laughed, and she simply kept smirking before shaking her head.

 

“You keep telling yourself that.” Was her only response as she walked toward camp, her hair quickly drying as it left a droplet trail behind her swinging hips. He was starting to see what Riviani meant, no normal woman could get away with swinging her hips like that.

 

He shook his head, smirking to himself as he walked into camp proper. They only got a strange look from Aveline, perhaps it was threatening, but all her looks seemed threatening. They exchanged a nod before Varric took over watch. It was going to be a long night, but at least there was food and water, and the hope of a way out.

 

It was nearly dawn when the silence broke, and it was like all the fury of the Maker came down on them at once. An unholy screeching filled the air, and Varric jerked awake, stumbling to his feet as he grabbed Bianca. Kerrigan appeared a moment later, running from the water where she had been spending her watch catching fish. The screeching died as fast as it came, and Aveline joined them around the fire.

 

“Varric, wake Bethany.” She said softly as she began circling the fire looking for any movement. Varric did as he was told, moving to the tent and reaching in, he didn't take his eyes off the fire as he found Bethany's ankle and tugged twice.

 

She was up in a moment, a scream on her lips as she smacked Varric's hand away. He was about to make a quip at her, but another round of that unholy screaming started immediately and Bethany scrambled to get her staff before coming out toward the fire.

 

Kerrigan spotted them first, letting loose an arrow that smacked the arm of the ugliest darkspawn Varric had ever seen. Long arms and claws, hunched over with a head like a mutated skull with pointed teeth. It turned to her and let loose another horrific scream with its bald head and pointed ears moving down as it made to charge at her. Aveline was there in an instant, blocking the way as her shield met with the gnashing teeth of the ugly thing. She hit it on the head with her pommel, knocking it backward as an arrow met the cavernous hole where its eye sat and pinned it to the ground.

 

“By the Maker, what are they?” Aveline said, breathless as she backed away from it and looked around.

 

“Whatever they are, they didn't come alone.” Varric responded, pointing to the entrance where several genlocks entered, Aveline charged them and Varric followed, but the shrieking started anew rattling his ears and head with the sheer magnitude of the sound. Then there was another scream, loud and high as Varric turned to see Bethany surrounded by the things. She was shaking, unable to cast due to fear and he saw one of them raise up their claw at her. “Sunshine!” He cried, only to see a flash of red and the sound of a dagger screeching against claws.

 

Kerrigan placed herself between the things and Bethany, snarling back like a beast as she hit it in the chest and it fell away. Another one tried to come up from the side and she raised a gauntlet covered arm and shoved it into the thing's mouth. “Bad boy,” she said, before kicking it in the solar-plexus and the shrieking monstrosity tumbled away from her. Three more appeared, pressing them back against the rock as Varric quickly shoved bolts into the chamber, pulling up Bianca's nose to try and clear them as he heard Aveline still struggling with the genlocks behind him.

 

“Now, Bethany!” Kerrigan shouted, ducking down as Bethany seemed to come to her senses and a cone of ice came forward and entrapped three of them while Kerrigan shot arrows at the remaining ones.

 

A concussive blast knocked the creatures away from the sisters, Kerrigan taking the opportunity to hit one in the skull with an arrow, and Varric took another one. They cleared the genlocks next, moving with precision as Kerrigan stayed close to Bethany. The two sisters shadowed each other as one would light an enemy on fire and the other would take it down with an arrow or the slice of a dagger.. They cleared the away in time for an Ogre to join the fray, all of them around the large creature. Aveline kept his attention as much as possible, they battled to try and wear him down. Aveline seemed ready to fall when Kerrigan lured him into the water and gave Bethany a chance to light the area in bright flame as Kerrigan dived beneath the blast. She came out coughing, Aveline rushing to assist her and pull her from the water as the Ogre finally fell.

 

She collapsed onto the sand and rock, coughing and spitting water.

 

“Sister!” Bethany cried, rushing to her side, but Kerrigan waved her off.

 

“I'm fine, I promise.” She said, grabbing Bethany's hand with a smile, and then embraced her when the poor girl started sobbing.

 

“Always the same on these damn adventures,” Varric grumbled as he looked around their trashed campsite, slashes in the tents and bedrolls thrown about. “A lot of walking, a lot of waiting, and then five minutes of pure terror.”

 

“I could do without the last part.” Kerrigan said, breathless as she slowly stood up and shook her head sending water everywhere like she was a mabari. Bethany hovered nearby, tears still in her eyes as she looked her over.

 

“They didn't get you, did they?” Bethany whispered, and Kerrigan smiled gently as she cupped her sister's cheek.

 

“I'm fine Bethany, I promise.” Kerrigan gave her best smile, but Bethany's eyes still swam with tears. She pulled the girl close hugging her tight as the two whispered something to each other. Varric moved away and saw Aveline already breaking down the camp.

 

“How much did we lose?” Varric asked as he began picking up the remains of the Hawke sister's tent. They definitely wouldn't be sleeping under that any time soon.

 

“The food supplies are fine, but the tents are a loss.” Aveline sounded grumpier than ever as she wrapped up what was left of her tent. “I suggest we wash the tents and bedrolls before we go, make sure they aren't contaminated.”

 

“That could take several hours.” Varric argued, shaking his head as he looked around at the camp.

 

“Better that than any of us being tainted.” Kerrigan chimed in, looking around the campsite in dismay. “We'd best get started, I don't want a repeat of that.”

 

The camp was broken down quickly, and while they double checked the bedrolls in the end they decided to forgo washing them in favor of getting out. Bethany was quiet, nervous and even jumpier than usual for the rest of the day. They spent the next night camping in a main chamber, watch rotating every three hours to make up for Bethany who wouldn't eat and fell asleep the moment they set out the rolls. Kerrigan didn't sleep at all, the slightest sound making her sit up suddenly before settling back to stare at the ceiling.

 

The second day they finally came upon something familiar, Kerrigan breathed a sigh of relief as she gazed at the map and then back around them. “Finally!” She exclaimed, pointing to the chamber ahead of them, “This looks familiar.”

 

Varric nodded, pulling the rolled up map out of his jacket. “You're right Hawke, four-five days tops and we'll be back in the fresh air and sunshine.”

 

“Could we… slow down? I'm not feeling well.” The voice was quiet, he had noticed Bethany lagging behind the last two hours or so, poor girl. The trip really must have burned everything out of her.

 

“I'll wager it was those deep mushrooms we tried to eat.” Varric said, looking down at the map and trying to figure out the rest of their journey. Shouldn't take more than a few days at the pace they were going, and he couldn't wait to be out of here.

 

Kerrigan sighed before responding, “We'll set camp if you're not feeling -” but as she turned around the words died on her lips and her eyes went wide. “Bethany!” The girl had collapsed and Kerrigan ran to her, lifting her head up as she pushed a few strands of hair out of her face.

 

“It's the Blight… isn't it?” Her voice was a hoarse whisper as Kerrigan stared into eyes that should have been blue, but were now a dull gray. “I'm going to end up like Wesley, aren't I?”

 

“Why didn't you say anything?!” Kerrigan demanded, her fingers grabbing her left sleeve and pulling it down, and there it was, three scratches across her shoulder, the wound black with infection. Her fingers moved to touch the wound, but Bethany caught her hand. “This is just like you… keeping it to yourself.” Tears were filling her eyes and Varric felt his whole body go numb. It couldn't be happening, not to her, not to them, not when they were so damn close.

 

“What would you have done?” Bethany smiled, though it looked ghastly with the gray color in her eyes and the black veins on her face, “Swooped to my rescue?”

 

“I-I could have done something!” Kerrigan cried, her shoulders shaking as she held onto Bethany with painfully white fingertips, “I'm not going to let you die down here Bethany, I can't lose you here!”

 

Varric felt the numbness reach his toes and fingertips as he stared, and before he realized what he was saying he started to speak, “We're still days away from the surface Hawke… We're in the middle of nowhere.” He saw her face, what should have been the bright and happy face of a nineteen year old girl was already corpse white, ghastly with dead eyes. “Oh, Sunshine.” It was quiet as a funeral dirge, and it hung in the air as Kerrigan began to silently weep.

 

“You'll take care of it, won't you sis?” Bethany whispered as she cupped her sister's cheek, forcing Kerrigan to look at her, “You won't let me become one of them, you can't.” Bethany's voice caught in pain as Kerrigan gripped her hand, shivering as she held her close.

 

“You always were a heart breaker Bethany,” She said softly.

 

“And you always made me laugh.” Bethany tried to laugh, but coughed with the effort as black bile spilled on her lips. Kerrigan cleaned it without a word before lifting her sister and moving her against a rock. He tried to find the words to say, something- anything- to stop the pain that coursed through his body, and the anger and the guilt. All of it piled atop him and kept him silent. It closed his throat, constricted his breathing. It kept him and Aveline like statues as he watched Kerrigan lean her dying sister so carefully against the boulder and placed her staff to the side. “It's just you now,” he heard Bethany whisper as she reached out one last time to touch her sister's cheek, “promise you'll take care of mother.”

 

“I promise, Bethany, I promise.” Her words were cut by silent sobs as she held tight to her hand as if she would simply disappear.

 

Bethany coughed again, “I-it's coming on fast,” She gripped Kerrigan's hand tight, tugging to force her to meet eyes. “You have to do it now, please, before it's too late.”

 

Bethany's hand dropped and Kerrigan pressed hers over her mouth before her free hand plunged the blade into her sister's chest. The hand muffled her screams as black blood spilled against the ground, and against Kerrigan's hand. It was over so fast, Bethany squirmed only once before falling silent. Kerrigan dropped the blade, shaking as she reached up and pushed a few strands of black hair out of Sunshine's face. Her eyes spilled over as he and Aveline stood still as statues. They watched her place Bethany's staff across her lap, wrap her fingers around it as if she were merely resting. They said nothing as she closed her sister's long dead eyes, as if they were a pair of gargoyles watching a Chantry funeral. He hated himself, hated himself for not saying anything as Kerrigan finally stood and picked up her sister's pack, leaving the dagger black with her sister's blood on the floor as her fingers dripped the same vitae onto the ground.

 

It was Aveline who moved first, walking slowly over to the body and raised her hand. “May she find peace, at the side of the Maker.”

 

Kerrigan whirled, eyes wild as her hair flew around her, “Fuck the sodding Maker!” She screamed, her voice raw as fresh tears threatened to fall from her eyes, “There is no Maker here, the Maker doesn't give a shit about us!” Her voice echoed off the halls, her shoulders shaking as she pointed a finger toward Bethany, eyes still wet with tears, “The Maker did this, he did this to all of us. I say fuck the Maker and his fucking golden throne.” She spat then before whirling away, shoulders hunched as Aveline stood stunned in the wake of her outrage.

 

Slowly she followed her, boots against the ground and it was only Varric left near the remnants of Sunshine. He looked only once at Bethany before rushing to catch up to Kerrigan as he forced down tears of a life extinguished too soon. The guilt carried on him like a lead weight around his ankle, and all he could see were Kerrigan's accusing eyes and Bethany's gray dead ones.


	5. You Can Never Go Home Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our intrepid heroes attempt to recover from the loss of Bethany, Aveline and Varric both desperate to see the girl recover from this loss, but the biggest trial is yet to come as they have to make it out of the Deep Roads alive, and return to Kirkwall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone who has read, kudo'd and commented! You guys keep me going. I hope you enjoy the chapter

They traveled in perfect silence, and Varric felt Bethany's gray eyes like a shadow behind him, haunting him no matter how far he walked away. Kerrigan's shoulders were hunched, stomping down the walkways that he was sure he recognized now. Still she marked the doorways, out of habit. The three lateral slices with her eating knife, he tried to offer her his dagger but she shot him a look that made him fall back again. She broke the tip off on the second doorway and threw the knife with a screech he had never heard a human make.

 

“Let's stop for the night.” He offered quietly, looking over to Aveline and seeing the same amount of concern on her face. Kerrigan whirled on him, the same anger that was there when she screamed at Aveline, but all Varric saw were the tears still in her eyes and the purple-gray circles from too little sleep.

 

“I agree,” He felt the shock tumble through him as Aveline spoke up in his defense, she even moved closer to him until they stood shoulder to… well shoulder to elbow. “It won't do us any good to march any further tonight.” Her voice held an authority he had never heard Aveline use against Hawke before, it must be the voice she used on the guards back at the barracks.

 

She didn't waver under Kerrigan's critical eye either, and slowly the anger deflated. “Fine.” The word was hissed between teeth as she dropped her and her sister's pack. Varric winced hearing it clang against the hard floor. “I'm going to scout out the area. I'll be back in an hour.”

 

Varric almost opened his mouth to protest, but Hawke seemed to sense it as she leveled those bright eyes of hers on him and he silenced. She moved to leave, but Varric stepped forward, his dagger in his hand. “At least take this.” His voice was soft, and he had expected to see the smiling face that he knew. Instead pained eyes bored holes into him, but she did take the dagger before pulling her bow and disappearing down the path to their left. He let out the breath he didn't realize he was holding as he watched her disappear. Her mere presence was oppressive, anger and pain coming off her in waves that disappeared with her.

 

Aveline was staring after her too, oscillating on her toes as if she meant to go after the girl before changing her mind. “The poor lass.” She said quietly, as Kerrigan fully disappeared down the path.

 

Varric frowned, looking down at the two packs and shaking his head as he felt the pain like a hand clutching his throat, suffocating him. “I-” the words died in his mouth, leaving a taste like ash.

 

Aveline was suddenly next to him, her hand on his shoulder with a grip that was almost painful. “Hawke will pull through this, she's stronger than anyone I've ever met.”

 

“I hope you're right, Aveline.” Is all he could muster, staring down the side path after her? He never let her scout alone before, not with these damn darkspawn who knows how close. “Maybe I should-”

 

“Leave her be.” Aveline cut her off, her hand still on his shoulder and she gripped a little harder and he sighed.

 

“Let's just get camp set.” He felt worry gnawing at him, but he pushed it aside for now and concentrated on getting out the bedrolls. He almost set Bethany's as well before he realized what he was doing, shaking fingers touching along the rolled up cloth. He hadn't noticed the stains before, but he saw them now. Grey and black staining where she must have been coughing, how did he not notice?

 

His fingers touched along the splotches, dried long ago, and felt his throat constrict again. How had he let this happen? He had the blood of several people on his hands, some younger than Bethany, but they chose the life they had. Sunshine… she was just a victim of circumstance. He forced himself to stand, a shaky breath leaving his lungs as he remembered Leandra demanding Bethany be left behind. Poor Hawke. First Carver, now Bethany. He had heard about Carver's death, being taken down by the Ogre as he tried to protect their mother, and how Leandra had immediately blamed Kerrigan for it, for the loss of her favorite. Leandra would place the blame for Bethany on Hawke's shoulders as well, pushing it away from herself.

 

He knew that pain well too, his memories of his own drunken mother still fresh wounds. They finished setting camp, and put out some fish to eat. He slowly sat, the food tasteless in his mouth as he kicked out the dust and rocks from his boots and heard the telltale scraping of Aveline sharpening her blade, as she did every evening. When they had both finished eating and Kerrigan hadn't returned he felt the hairs on the back of his neck rising, like they always did when he sensed trouble.

 

“She's taking her time.” Aveline said, eyes looking down the path she had taken and he saw the same worry in her brow. Stoic Aveline reminded him too much of a mother at that moment, and he forced the image aside lest he think of her as soft.

 

Quiet took over the camp, Varric adjusted Bianca for what felt like the millionth time as Aveline began checking her armor. Finally he could take no more of it, she should have been back over an hour ago. He shook his head and let out a sound of annoyance before pulling up Bianca and adjusted his coat. “I'm going after her.” He left no room for argument, and Aveline gave none. Instead she stood from her roll and grabbed her sword.

 

“I'm coming with you.” She was just as firm, but Varric couldn't have it.

 

“Stay with the supplies, she probably just got lost.” Aveline didn't buy it, but Varric shot her a look and she slowly sat back down. After the outburst she had back at… back there they didn't need her as a painful reminder of it all. He simply hoped he had better luck.

 

“Hawke?!” Varric called out, as he left the camp behind, hearing his voice echo against the walls. He took to the corridor, in the direction he'd seen her disappear down, looking for her signature markings on the walls and not finding any. This wasn’t like her, Kerrigan was always careful, always left a trail in case something happened, but the paths were empty and quiet. It was disturbed dust that let him find her trail at all, the disused corridor leaving scuffs of where her booted feet had gone. Varric had an excellent eye, and he knew her gait and followed the gentle impressions in the dirt and dust.

He pulled Bianca to his side, listening for the sound of a scuffle, but everything was deathly still and only the sound of his own footfalls echoed in the chambers. He found no blood, no sign of a fight, just quiet and the continuing scuffs of the fine dust that covered everything. They faltered more than once, seeming to pause or half turn before continuing on, as if she thought of turning back toward camp, before heading further into these unexplored byways. He marked the walls as he went, her same three lateral marks though not as high as her human self usually put them. At one point he thought he had lost her trail entirely, until he found a smaller crag with obvious scuff marks as she climbed her way over the rocks.

 

When he got through he was amazed by the sight on the other side, a large cliff face with open lava fields with their oppressive heat filling the area. Amongst the hot magma was the caved out sides of a forgotten thaig half-eaten by the liquid flame, its walls crumbling as the liquid heat chipped away at this ancient relic. The road was as forgotten as the thaig, the large bridge that had once connected to it had collapsed who knew how long ago and the remains of its arch left open to the great lava flow below. It was there he found her, on the uneven remnant of a bridge now a ledge left pointing out and exposed to the lava. She was silhouetted by the light, a great shadow on the edge of an abyss. Her hair being pushed by updrafts, the direction ever changed by the escaping heat, and the light of the molten fire silhouetted her. It was beautiful. For not the first time Varric realized she was beautiful, but this made her otherworldly like a specter that would disappear when you looked away.

“Hawke,” He couldn’t help the relief in his voice as he slipped Bianca into her holster, “You had me worried.”

She didn’t turn from the fire, just stared into it as if she hadn’t heard him at all. Concern rolled through him, his footsteps echoed despite the roar of the fires below as he came up to her, “Kerrigan?”

The sound of her name seemed to break the spell that kept her staring into the fire, and she turned to gaze at him. The light hit her face and hair, the updraft making the red strands look like pure fire, and her face was a mixture of shadows and painful light. Her face was lined with dirt, and darkspawn blood, but darkened with the stain lines of tears that caught his attention. He had never seen her this way, he prayed he never would again. Her wide eyes were dark, the pitch black of the pupil eating the bright blue-green away, her jaw clenched and body tense. She was shaking he realized, tremors making her shoulders shudder as if she were freezing, impossible in all this heat. He watched her curl her long fingers into a fist, and for the first time in her presence he was concerned she was actually going to hit him. Instead she just looked out into the fire again, hiding her face from him. “I keep thinking, if I jump - if I jump now, it’ll all stop.” Her voice was so quiet he almost didn’t hear it, but he watched her lips form the words and his brow pinched with worry. “The fire will take it all away.” She was so close to the edge, and he watched her body tense, her foot moving as if she meant to take a step into that abyss.

 

Damn it all he was not losing her here, not after Sunshine, he had to make it right. “You’re talking crazy, beautiful.” He said, his baritone carrying every bit of sweetness he could for the girl, and that was a lot. “Let’s go back, Hawke, we’ll get you something to eat and some rest, then we’ll get out of here.” He reached for her hand, to comfort her, console her, drag her back from the edge if he had to. She must have guessed his intentions, because moved away from that grasp without ever looking at him.

She turned away, and he felt fear in his throat that she’d do it, she’d jump. He reached out for her again, and this time his hand caught hers. He remembered the water, her warm hands against his, her laughter and he grabbed hold. “If you jump, you'll have to take me with you. I'm not letting go without a fight.”

 

He would never know if it was his hand on hers, or his words that stopped her. Something in her seemed to break and she collapsed, falling to her knees with arms hitting the tile of this long forgotten road. She wrenched her hand from his and began to beat her fists against the unforgiving rock as fresh tears swept down her face.

“Why can’t I do it?” She asked no one, and her fist pounded harder against the rock, part of him sure that her bones would break, or that she would and crumble like the thaig out there in the lava. Her hair fell over her eyes as she hunched over in a pain she couldn’t express. “Why can’t I do it?!” Her voice was strong, no sobs breaking its candor, but the pain in it was so palpable he felt it clenching his own throat closed. She screamed then, loud enough that it echoed against the walls. She let it out, all pain in her, the guilt, the anger. It was a feeling like his own heart was breaking with that sound. Slowly Varric stepped over to her, kneeling down at her side. He wrapped his own hands around hers, seeing the blood from her desperate attack on the stone itself.

“Kerrigan, stop.” And with her shoulders shaking with sobs he held her for the first time. Kneeling against the stone with the heat of the lava fields and remains of something long dead eaten by the molten rock, he held her, tight to his chest in desperation. Please, he begged to any god that would listen, don't let me lose her too.

 

He felt her tears on his jacket, and her fingers clutching his leather lapel as she finally responded. She screamed again, quieter this time, he felt himself shattering into a million pieces with the pain she let out of her. He worried, selfishly he would realize later, he would never see her smile again, that this would truly kill her as the screams slowed to whimpers and her grip went slack. He cradled her gently, one arm across her shoulders and the other resting along the back of her head, feeling the slight weight of her as she rested her forehead on his shoulder. He felt tears in his own eyes as he stared out into the fire, “I’m sorry, beautiful, I’m so sorry.” He whispered, his nose catching the scent of sweat, tears, and death that clung to her, and beneath the far away smell of jasper and a flower he couldn’t name. “We’ll get out of here, and I’ll find a way to make this right, I promise.”

 

Kerrigan quieted, and while she didn’t speak after a time she separated herself from his arms. He gave her the canteen he hid in his jacket to wash her face before they headed back to camp. She was quiet, but walked close to him, and he found himself shadowing her steps. He would get them out of here, and he would find a way to make her smile again, he didn’t care how long it took.

 

When they reached camp they barely made it ten steps before he saw Aveline moving toward them with purposeful steps. Her hands in fists at her sides as Aveline crossed the space and he almost stepped between them, sure that the guardswoman was going to punch Hawke square in the mouth. Instead she embraced the younger girl, clutching her to her larger body. “Don't ever worry me like that again.” She said softly, but Varric still caught it and felt himself soften to the soon to be captain of the guard.

 

Kerrigan kept her chin up, and even smiled when Aveline finally let her go. It was a pale imitation of her usual grin, but Varric took comfort in the fact that she smiled at all. “I'm sorry, for everything.” Is all she said, and Aveline smiled too.

 

“Hush, now lass,” was all he said as she pressed a strand of hair out of her eyes. “Come on and eat, you're no use to anyone hungry.”

 

It was almost back to normal, and even with the slight pain in the back of their minds they smiled as if nothing was wrong. He snuck Kerrigan the private flask of ale he kept on him, and told stories as she ate, doing what he could to keep her distracted as he told the tale of Warden they had started so long ago. She laughed when she was supposed to, but it was quieter, more hollow. It would take time, he reminded himself, and continued with the story. Pretending, like all of them were, that their party didn't have one bedroll too many.

 

After a time the tales stop, as does the false laughter. Kerrigan turns in early, sorrow the best cure for insomnia as she was out in minutes, leaving him and Aveline staring from across their circular encampment at her.

 

“Is she going to be alright?” Varric asked, looking over to Aveline. He hated himself for doing so, for needing the reassurance, but the sight of her on that edge, all too ready to jump haunted him still.

 

“No.” Aveline responded, and in her eyes he saw the horrors of the things that passed for her. Ser Wesley's death still a fresh wound.

 

“Wow, you really know how to comfort a guy.” He tried to fill it with humor, but it fell flat.

 

“I figured you'd at least want to truth.” There was a look in her eyes as she leveled those green orbs at him, some knowledge in them that frightened him. They were disapproving, their glare present as always, but something even deeper lay hidden. Pity perhaps. “In time it will hurt less,” she continued, looking across at the haphazard reds and oranges of Kerrigan's hair, “but she will never be like she was before. That person died with Bethany.”

 

He knew she was right of course, he sighed as he watched her turn over in sleep.

 

“I'll take first watch.” Aveline spoke, breaking him from his thoughts as he looked up to her. She stood and moved over to grab her shield. “We'll let her sleep as long as we can.”

 

He nodded in silent agreement before moving to his own bedroll, before thinking better of it and stood up and rolled up the padded goose down, pillow, and blanket. He moved closer to Kerrigan, and Aveline said nothing, for which he was thankful. He placed himself between her and that sheer cliff, hoping it would be enough to dissuade her. He frowned as he lay down against the few layers of padding that kept him from the hard rock of the road and turned to gaze at Kerrigan. Her hair was in her face, the rest of it caught up in her fingers and she held it to her like a pillow, and he thought of the time at the Hanged Man as she curled up on his bed, then her in the water what felt like a lifetime ago now. “You're going to be ok, Hawke, I know you will.” He whispered it to her sleeping form before he rolled over, and caught sight of Bianca. He glowered at the crossbow, “don't look at me like that,” he whispered to it, and he could see Bianca's frown reflected back at him in the silver of the wire. She'd be ok, he'd make this right, and he'd see Hawke smile again. He still saw that frown when he closed his eyes, no matter what happened before this… this he could fix.

 

Kerrigan awoke hours later, he was on watch and at first he didn't notice the change. Not until his eyes caught sight of her shoulders shaking, beneath the blanket. At first he thought it was a nightmare, but when he heard her muffled sobs he realized that she isn't dreaming some Fade-addled nightmare, but waking up to one. He set Bianca down slowly, and can feel her glower as he moved to Kerrigan's side. He felt that rising pressure in his chest, closing his throat, and it only eases when he pulls her into his arms. She didn't stop crying, even the shock of being pulled from her bedroll doesn't make her stop. He held her tight to him, and soon her arms wrapped around his shoulders. The sobs make her shake so hard he fears she'll fly apart, and he can feel the tears against his neck as she burrows her head against him. “Shhh,” he whispered, voice soft as he pushes her hair away from her face. She was so warm it was painful, her face burned with tears and pain as she sobs.

 

“I'm sorry,” She whispered, her voice cracked with pain, she apologizes all the same. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, clinging to him as she shivers and shudders between sobs. “I'm so sorry, Varric.”

 

“Hey-” He said, his voice soft as he reached a gloved hand down to her and lifts her chin, forced her to look at him. “There's nothing to be sorry for.” She smiled, but it was marred by the tears still streaming down her cheeks. He pressed his lips against her forehead, feeling that burning heat of pain like a fever before he cradles her against him again. Her arms wrapped around his midsection now as she nuzzled her head into the crook between his neck and shoulder.

He had to make it right, somehow. He ran a hand through those tight curls, slowly pulling it away from her face. He lifts her head up again, so he can look in her eyes, and she stared back at him with a mixture of fear and shame. Her cheeks were red beneath the dirt that is caught in her tears, her lips swollen where she had bitten them to swallow her sobs, and her nose painfully red. He wiped a tear from her cheek, watching his glove take away some of that grime and reveal the freckles beneath, and smiled the most genuine smile he had ever given to her. It was soft, and warm, and he saw the pain ease… just for a moment. Her arms relaxed, and slowly she set her head back down on his shoulder.

"We’ll get out of here," Varric whispered, his hands rhythmically moving against her hair as he felt her body begin to relax. "We’ll see the sunlight again, and breathe fresh air." Her fingers released him as she pulled her blanket around her shoulders, and he felt a long forgotten sorrow twist in his chest as she curled her body closer to his.

"Everything is going to be okay, beautiful. I promise." It was hollow, truly the most pathetic lie he had ever told, but it seemed to ease the pain in them both. It gave them a few moments to truly believe that yes, it was going to be alright. He placed an arm around her shoulders, amazed by how long and how thin her form was as she rested her head fully against his shoulder. He knew he’d have to disentangle himself when she finally fell asleep, but for now this was enough. She was warm and exhausted, her muscles loosening as she placed a hand next to her head, almost directly over his heartbeat.

"Varric?" She asked as he had fully settled next to her, his head resting atop her own.

"Yes, Hawke?" He responded, not lifting his head as he felt her nudge her brow against his cheek.

"Thank you." Her voice was so quiet he wasn’t sure he heard it, and despite the circumstance it made him smile.

"Anytime, beautiful." He whispered, placing a final kiss on the top of her head he felt her finally fully relax. An hour later, when she finally was asleep he didn’t dare move. Instead he stayed there, arms wrapped around her shoulders and head atop her own as she slept. He couldn’t bring Sunshine back, but he could do this, and for now that would have to be enough.  
Aveline didn't say anything when she awoke, just shook her head at him. He lifted a finger to his lips to indicate that she should keep quiet, and for her part she did so. Varric couldn't tell how much time passed after that, he would fade in and out of dreamless slumber only to wake when Kerrigan would shift. Long after his arm had gone numb Kerrigan truly woke, and Varric watched as she blinked the edges of sleep out of her eyes.

 

“Morning,” he said softly, watching as she looked around herself, disoriented. A sheepish smile was on her lips as she caught Aveline's green eyes glaring at her from across the camp.

 

“Uh, morning.” She pushed away from him, making space between them and Varric took it as an opportunity to move his arm and try to shake it awake. “How long was I out?”

 

“Close to half a day.” Aveline responded, coming over with some dried fish and a few mushrooms.

 

Kerrigan took them with a word of thanks before biting into the fish with a ravenous hunger. At least her appetite had returned, there was some comfort in that. Varric slowly stood, and caught Kerrigan eying him as he picked up Bianca and moved toward his own bedroll. “Well the day isn't a loss,” he took a fish of his own from Aveline and even caught a small smile from the guardswoman as he sat against the material, legs kicked out. “After you eat I say we break camp and see how far we get. It should be a clear shot from here back to our entrance.”

 

“Sounds good,” Kerrigan's voice was muffled by food as she took her fourth fish and a few more of the mushrooms. They broke down camp in silence, bed rolls rolled, packs reset, and in the end they split Bethany's pack amongst them to share the load of what she should have been carrying out.

 

It took another two days of walking to reach the surface, and two days beyond that before they finally saw Kirkwall's rising chains. He was never so happy to see them before, or since. The hero’s welcome they had imagined when they left was not there, but they were grateful for that too. They came back home quietly, each staying close as they were now bound to each other by something none would be able to explain. They were changed, forever. Varric managed to catch an urchin and used them to get the goods to his warehouse at the docks, where it would sit until he found a buyer and split the profits three ways. Aveline tried to step out of her share, but he'd get a portion to her all the same.  
Aveline embraced Hawke before she left for the Barracks, holding the girl tight to her as she whispered softly to the girl, and this time Varric made sure he was far enough away not to overhear. They parted in the way he had hoped Kerrigan would with her mother, hands held for just a moment longer before letting her go. It wasn't goodbye, but he knew the pain of this temporary separation, it was one more step closer to what she was dreading.  
They made their way to Low Town in silence, walking barely half a pace apart and both grateful not to see anyone known to them. The slow walk toward their respective homes Varric attempted to find what to say, anything to make the pain of going home without Bethany easier, but all his planned speeches fell flat in his mind. None of them could convey the right feeling, the right words he wanted to give her to ease the sting in her heart.

 

When they reached the Hanged Man he finally spoke. “When I get my hands on Bartrand, I swear-”

 

“Revenge isn't the first thing on my mind right now.” She cut him off, and he watched her eyes dart about, looking anywhere but toward the Low Town slums. He had intended to put her more at ease, but it appeared that thinking of killing the betrayer only made the fact that she was going home alone all the more apparent.  
“I… know.” He dropped the act, sighing as he ran a hand against his brow, desperately trying to think up something to say to her, anything. But nothing came, he frowned and said the truth. “I’m sorry about what happened to your sister, I should have seen Bartrand's betrayal coming. I'll get that maggot if it's the last thing I do.” This time Kerrigan didn't argue, about the guilt, about getting Bartrand, even if he still remembered her fingers in the water, now it seemed little comfort that before Bethany's death she didn't blame him… if she did now he deserved it. “I imagine you'll be heading home to tell the family?” He winced even as he said it, this was definitely not his best moment.

 

“I don't have much of a choice,” was all she said, her voice flat and empty. She had the Hawke armor up, and he had to hope it was strong enough to get her through. He wasn't sure he could take watching her break down again like she had in the Deep Roads.

 

“You'll be a wealthy woman, Hawke. It wasn't all for nothing.”

 

“I don't think mother will see if that way.” Hawke's said softly, her eyes finally settling on the road to Gamlen's rat infested hole in Low Town.

 

“Hawke… c'mere.” He took a few steps toward her and a tug of her hand had her stumbling enough that he could bring her down to his level. He held her hunched form, feeling that soft far away heat beneath her leathers. “Whatever she says, kiddo, this wasn't your fault. Bethany's death isn't on you, and don't you dare let her make you think that it is.”

 

The tension in her body dropped and she embraced him in return, her arms wrapped around his shoulders as his vision was enveloped by red and orange curls. “Thank you, Varric. You're the best dwarf a girl could ever ask for.”

 

He laughed as he let her go, and as she straightened he caught her fingers pushing away tears from her eyes. “I'm the best dwarf anyone could ever ask for. Get it right, Hawke.”

 

She laughed, and there it was, a genuine smile as she looked down at him. “See you at the Hanged Man later?”

 

“I'll be waiting.” They shared a look then, soft smiles and gentle understanding. These looks had become common since the Deep Roads, but there was a warmth in it even he felt that hadn't been present down in that darkness. Varric felt so close to her now, like the grief below had cemented their friendship… but there was something in it that was like standing too close to a fire. It's warm, and kind, until it's burning you. “Take care, Kerrigan.”

 

She nodded, and then she was turning, walking away all swinging hips and bouncing hair. He watched her go, feeling that heat so close to burning him. He just cared about the kid, he told himself, it was natural after everything he went through with her. It was practically paternal, a drive to protect the poor girl and keep her safe. He could feel Bianca's disapproving stare and sighed.

 

He stayed there until he was sure she had gotten home, letting the feeling of being back in Kirkwall settle in around him. It was different now, the city was a bit emptier and a bit quieter to his mind. The comfort of the riches he had waiting to be sold did not give him the comfort he had hoped, nor did the promise of getting away from the Merchant's Guild. It all seemed hollow now, perhaps the price for freedom was genuinely too high.

 

He sighed and ran a gloved hand through his hair, before slowly shaking his head and moving to the door of the Hanged Man. They had survived the Deep Roads, but a part of them was still down there in those dark passages. All any of them could hope for was that with time that part of them would die off, and they'd no longer wake in the night fearing they were still down there fighting to get out. And right now, Varric Tethras needed a drink or ten to insure he started to forget.


	6. Drink to Forget

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the Deep Roads behind them, the only thing to do is to go forward, and do what you can to forget.

Varric made it three steps into the Hanged Man when he found his way blocked by a scantily dressed figure he'd recognize three sheets to the wind. “Rivaini!” He exclaimed, and if he expected a warm hug or delighted exchange he didn't get it. Isabela shoved him against a wall and brought him up to her eye-level by his coat, her leather bound forearm pressing against his chest.

 

“Where have you been?” She growled, her eyes bright and flashing as she brought her nose so close he could feel the heat from her breath when her nostrils flared.

 

“I missed you too, Isabela.” His voice was strained with the force of her arm trying to cut off his breathing, but he didn't struggle, he was far too aware of the dagger pointed at his navel to attempt that.

 

“Where is Hawke, Varric?” Isabela's grip tightened, and he could feel the tip of the golden handled dagger Hawke gave her pressing through his tunic. "This little trip was supposed to take two weeks, you've been gone over a month. If I find out you killed her and left her in the Deep Roads for coin I-"  
She was silenced by the sensation of a dwarven fist meeting her solar plexus with every bit of force he could muster. Her dark hair fell in front of her face as she stumbled backward, and her slack grip let him stand back on solid ground. He heard her coughing, desperate to get back the air he'd knocked out of her, as she gripped a nearby chair to keep herself standing.

 

He adjusted his glove as he looked down at her. “I'm quite fond of you Rivaini, but you ever accuse me of betraying Hawke again and I'll have you thrown out.” He looked up to see Corff had jumped the bar to assist him, but a raised hand stopped him. Varric slowly reached down and helped Rivaini to her feet, she was smiling as he led her to a nearby table.

 

“You hide a mean right hook there, Varric.” She said after a moment, grateful for the ale he had brought over to her.

 

“I am more than just dashing good looks and excellent stories, Rivaini.” She laughed at that, and he gave her a grin as he sat himself. Normally Hanged Man ale was just a step away from Lowtown water, but right now it felt like a drink from the Stone itself after so long in the Deep Roads.

 

“I really am sorry, Varric.” She said after both of them had drained their pints and more were on the way, “I shouldn't have accused you, I just-”

 

“I understand, if you'd been down there with her and not me… well, I probably would have reacted the same way.” Norah delivered their replacements, and he dropped her some silver as he predicted several drinks in his future.

 

“What happened down there Varric? I heard about Bartrand returning and I rushed to find Hawke, but neither she or you'd been seen. I -” Rivaini didn't hide her emotions very well as he was starting to learn. She was practically ringing her hands.

 

Varric shook his head, “That's quite the story to tell Rivaini, but I'm not ready to tell it.” His voice didn't hide his bitterness, so Bartrand came back did he? Sodding bastard. “Is Bartrand still here?”

 

“No, he took ship almost immediately.” Rivaini said, and Varric groaned. Damn it all to the pyre, he was already gone, he ran a gloved hand across his cheek as he felt his rage meet with frustration.

 

“Damn, I guess I couldn't be lucky enough to survive and have Bartrand still here.” Varric gave another groan before he downed his ale and felt that alcoholic twinge ease his rage.

 

“I'm going to go check on Hawke,” Rivaini almost made it to her feet before Varric caught her hand, but this time he wasn't telling her to let Hawke sleep, or to stop flirting with Norah. There was pain in his eyes as he looked at Isabela, he knew it was there because he felt it in his chest. He shook his head and slowly she sat down. “Hawke came back with you… right?” Isabela's voice was a desperate whisper, and Varric frowned.

 

“Let's go upstairs, and I'll tell you what happened.” Isabela looked ready to refuse, or demand answers, but something in his eyes must have stopped her. She followed him up to his palatial suite without a word. It wouldn't be the last time he would tell the story of their fateful journey into the Deep Roads, but it would be the only time he did not make it sound like some grand adventure of heroes, and that he admitted to his guilt. He told her all of it, and with none of his flourish and lies. Norah kept his drinks coming, and if his cup was empty Isabela would hand him hers just to keep him talking.

 

It was painful just to recount it, and on more than one occasion he found tears on his cheeks as he spoke of Bethany, or when he admitted to what had transpired between Kerrigan and himself on that cliff. Isabela handed him a lace ended handkerchief that he had no idea she had, and was not in the mood now to ask where it came from. There was only one part he kept to himself, and that was the events around the waterfall, that quiet moment talking, the way she tugged his hand to force him to listen, her fingers leading him along the natural shoal. Something about that felt too sacred to share, even with Rivaini.

 

When he finished, Isabela sat stunned. Shaking her head as Varric downed what had to be his tenth flagon of Hanged Man ale. It was back to tasting about the same as the water, but the fact that he was home and safe kept him drinking. “So Bethany-”

 

“Is rotting somewhere in the Deep Roads, probably half eaten by deep stalkers.” His voice was filled to the brim with bitterness. He looked down at the eleventh flagon, watching the golden color flicker with the candle light. He felt the warm tingle of the alcohol in his system, but it did little to ease the pain.

 

“Poor Hawke,” was all Isabela offered, and he laid his head on the table. The cool stone and wood did nothing for him, but the solidness of it at least meant he was home.

 

“What am I gonna do, Rivaini?” He said softly, and after a moment felt Isabela's hand on his own. He knew the comfort it offered, but he pulled his hand away, using the excuse of needing his hand to down another full pint of ale. Maybe it wasn't an excuse. “I don't know how to help her now. I got her home… but Leandra. That damn woman would blame the sodding Blight on Hawke if she could.” There was that well of anger in him, and he tried to quench it with few remaining drops from his flagon.

 

“Well you're here now.” If that was an attempt by Isabela to be comforting, Varric didn't feel it. It felt more like an accusation, he should have gone with her. He should have told Leandra himself, let her blame him. He groaned against the table. “And now that I know I can help.”

 

Varric raised a skeptical pair of eyes at her, “I don't think a roll in the hay is going to make her feel better, Rivaini.”

 

“Varric!” She scolded, shaking her head at him as she pushed her own ale over to him. “I meant that we can keep her distracted, and out of that 'house' her uncle owns as much as possible.”

 

“I'm shocked, Rivaini wanting more from our leader than her body.”

 

“Well if I happen to get her drunk in here some night -” She gave him a wink and made a series of purring sounds and despite his sorrows he laughed.

 

“Don't ever change.” He shook his head, pushing her ale back to her. “But if I find out you went off and broke her heart, I'll have to stop paying your tab.”

 

“That's a weak threat.”

 

“And Bianca may shoot you.”

 

“Better.” She snatched up the ale and drunk it down herself.

 

Hawke didn't show up that night, not that he could blame her, and after the fifteenth flagon he carted himself off to bed. The rest could be settled in a day or two, for now he just wanted to feel what it was like to be on a bed and not on a padded roll a few precious inches off the hard ground. He wondered if Hawke had a bed of her own, or if that uncle of hers made her sleep on the floor with only a bit of hay for comfort. He'd have a few harsh words with the man if he ever found out Hawke was sleeping on the floor.

 

It was almost two weeks before Hawke emerged. More than once he thought of going to check on her, and every time Isabela stopped him. “Grieving is a process,” she said to him “She'll come back when she's ready.”

 

And he listened. Mostly. He had his urchin network concentrated on her, insuring she was kept safe. He was paying protection money out the ear as well, but it was the least he could do. She could walk around town without being accosted by random bandits, and while he knew he couldn't keep them away forever, he did what he could. When she finally did arrive it seemed to ease his ability to breathe, like it raised a weight he didn't know had been crushing him.

 

He caught sight of her right when she entered, her long fingers pushing the door to the Hanged Man and walking with the confidence she was lacking when they returned. Her wild tresses were tied back, something he had never seen her do, though it did little to keep the flame colored mane under control. Little wisps and curls still flew in every direction, several bouncing against her forehead, or hanging beside her ears in tight curled clusters.

 

She looked around before catching sight of him, and he didn't rush to her. He merely smiled from the doorway as she waved to Corff and headed up toward him. Her steps were quieter somehow, and he noticed she wasn't walking around in full battledress. Instead she was wearing a simple set of leathers for protection, but her bow was still with her and a new dagger strapped across her lower back.

 

“My dear Lady Hawke. I was starting to worry, did you get lost in Hightown?” Varric said with a grin as he indicated one of the chairs to her and moved to the one opposite. “I hope the renovation of the estate is going well.”

 

She frowned as she sat, slowly setting her bow on the table and the quiver beside her. “You heard about that did you?”

 

“The triumphant return of the Amells is being talked about everywhere, of course I heard.” He gave her a grin as his eyes swept over her face. Now that he could see her closer she seemed paler, her cheeks less full, and there were dark circles under her eyes. She seemed older too, the young face of the girl he met in the courtyard disappearing under the weight, and he felt the guilt again. She groaned, and he gave her a smirk, “I take it you are not ecstatic about your new lot?”

 

“It's a nightmare.” At that moment Norah appeared, carrying two flagons and Varric nodded to her, indicating he was paying for it. Kerrigan flashed her a smile, and for a moment he saw that young face before it disappeared as she drank at least half the pint in one go. “My mother has me involved in everything, keeps asking me what color the curtains should be, what chairs would go best in the living room, which paintings to buy.” She set down the flagon and shook her head, “She suddenly cares how I eat, how I act, she even yelled at me for keeping my bow next to me at dinner yesterday.”

 

“It's a tough lot, nobility.” Varric sympathized, his eyes sweeping over her face once more before taking a sip of his own ale. He'd been going easy on the stuff recently, remembering what going to alcohol with their sorrows did to someone. “How is Leandra?”

 

“Same as always,” It was a loaded phrase as Kerrigan seemed to get lost looking at the painting hung above his bookcases. She'd never shown an interest before, but now her eyes swept over it with a keen look. “She seems happier now that we'll be moving out of Lowtown.”

 

“I take it you don't share that enthusiasm?” Varric asked, and knew he didn't. Her being in Hightown would mean she was no longer just a few steps away, and that concerned him. He would not be able to keep as close of an eye on her, and she was a much larger target with that power.

 

“I'm happy to moving out of Gamlen's, and mother seems happy.” She avoided the question, eyes flitting away from him again to look at the bookcases.

 

“It'll be much quieter,” He said after a moment, and saw her fidget. “But I asked about you.”

 

She frowned, “I'd gotten so used to being in Lowtown. It's like I'm running from home all over again.” Kerrigan finally looked at him and he saw the edges of pain still in her eyes, “It was nice, being so close to the alienage and the Hanged Man. Did you know most of the elves have stopped calling me a shem?”

 

Varric laughed at that, leaning back in the chair. “Well you've been spending a lot of time there as of late, I wouldn't be surprised.”

 

“How did you know I've been spending time in the Alienage?” She raised a skeptical eye at him, and all Varric could do was laugh.

 

“I told you, Hawke, I know everything and everyone worth knowing.” She didn't argue, taking a contemplative sip out of her flagon before leaning back into the chair. “How are you really, Hawke? I must admit two weeks of not seeing you have made me a little nervous.”

 

“Aw, worried about me Varric?” Kerrigan teased, giving a soft laugh at his scowl. “I'm doing ok,” He leveled a skeptical look at her. “No, I mean it.”  
Her eyes got a faraway look to them as she looked over him, blue green eyes gazing at the painting again, “at first it was hard. I didn't think I could live without Bethany.” She let out a soft sigh, before seeming to come back to the present and looked to him, “But after a while I realized I couldn't mourn forever, and I didn't want to end up like mother. Blaming everyone else...so here I am.”

 

Varric smiled softly at that, it was touching to know that once she got past it it was him she came to. He knew she'd been to see Merrill a few times, but from what his contacts told him she never went in, just left things at the door. “I know it's not easy,” His voice soft as he put his hands on the table, he still remembered what it was like after returning, “I'm glad to see you, keeps me from graying with worry.”

 

She laughed, and it finally sounded like it used to, “I thought you'd like the gray, make you even more irresistible than you are now. No one can say no to a silver fox with a couple of scars.”  
Varric smirked, just thankful to hear her laughter again. “I couldn't have that, beautiful, I may cause a war just by stepping outside. All the nobles would fear for their wives, and the brothels would close.” They shared the laughter, and while there was a hollow edge to it, it was real. Maybe that would ease the guilt, and hopefully mean she was getting back to normal.

 

“So what brought you to the Hanged Man?” Varric asked after they had settled back down to a companionable silence, “Just a social call?”

 

“For the most part.” Kerrigan admitted.

 

Varric leveled his critical gaze on her again, “I don't like the sound of that.”

 

“Well,” She seemed nervous suddenly, fidgeting as she pulled on the coif above the leather breastplate she wore. He had to admit she seemed much less intimidating outside of her battle dress, it reminded him of when they first met. No helmet, a pair of nice leathers from her work with Athenril and boots, the bow slung easy over her shoulder. That same casual stance was here, if it was lacking her usual confidence. “I actually came to ask Isabela for a favor.”

 

“Needing help from the pirate queen?” He raised an eyebrow in surprise, sitting back as he watched Kerrigan become suddenly interested in the binding of her bowline. “You know, I am more than willing to offer assistance in any way I can.”

 

“It's a female thing, I think it'd be best if I asked Isabela.” Kerrigan said, and Varric shrugged. She bit her lip, her eyebrows furrowing with thought before she looked back to him, “Actually, there is something you could do for me.”

 

“Anything you need, m'lady.” He gave a slight bow from his chair, and she smirked at him, that same old smirk. Some things never change.

 

“Mother is throwing a party when the construction is finished.” Suddenly he wished he hadn't offered anything, as he watched her fingers play with the end of her recurve and avoid his gaze. “I can't trust anyone else to come, and Aveline is already going… but -”

 

“Let me guess, you were wondering if I'd make an appearance?” Varric smiled as he rested his arms in his lap, watching her embarrassed display. It was almost cute, if it wasn't for the fact that it was Hawke and this was below her usual blunt, and unafraid nature.

 

“There will be free food, lots of wine, and annoying nobles we can whisper to each other about.” She gave him a half-hearted, and if he was truthful rather pathetic, smile.

 

“You really know how to convince a dwarf.” He said sarcastically, and watched her turn an indignant look at him in response. “I'll go -” He saw her eyes light up in relief, but he held up a hand to stop her, “I'll go – if you tell me what you need Isabela for.”

 

That deflated her excitement, as she slumped back in her chair. Then he noticed it, a red blush creeping over her cheeks. The little scamp, did Isabela make her move? That would also explain why she was so hard to catch these days. He leaned forward, steepled fingertips giving away his interest. “Come on, Hawke, you can tell me.”

 

She wavered for a moment, before sighing in defeat. She must have been really dreading that party to give in, and her cheeks reddened all the more, this had to be good.

 

“I -” she started, then stopped again. Then finally seemed to come to a decision as she grabbed her pint of ale and finished it in one swig before slamming it on the table. “I have to go get fitted for a dress.” She said it so quickly the words slurred together, and he started laughing.

 

He couldn't help it, the laughter grew louder as she crossed her arms and the red on her cheeks turned darker. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.” She grumbled, and it was only when she actually started to pout that he forced himself to calm down.

 

“Forgive me, Hawke.” He said once he was fully under his own control once more, shaking his head as he saw her raising her chin in proud indignation. It was absolutely ruined by the red still on her cheeks. “I thought with the way you were acting it was something truly serious, but a dress?”

 

She sighed before pushing herself up from the table, “Just forget it.” Her fingers grabbed the bow, but he grabbed the opposite end and forced her to look at him.

 

“I'll be there,” He stared directly into her eyes, making sure she kept that gaze. “I’d hate to make you suffer through a night with the nobles alone.”

 

“You just want to see how pathetic I'll look in fancy dress.” She retorted, but there was no malice in it.

 

“Perhaps. But I promise I won't tell a soul if you promise not to tell how ridiculous I look in a doublet.”

 

Kerrigan laughed, and he found himself smiling. “Deal.” She reached out her hand and they shook, his other hand released the bow and she quickly put it and the quiver back to their normal positions. “I'll be back later tonight, think you could spare some time for a few drinks?”

 

“Always.” They met eyes once more, and exchanged a nod before she left, wild curls bouncing in her wake. A few moments later he heard the loud laughter of Isabela as he went back to his manifests. Yes, everything was going to be alright.

 

It was late evening when Hawke returned, though he had had time to prepare. The day was spent with shipping manifests as he was attempting to combine his own shadow empire with his brother's. As the last standing of the Tethras family it also meant that all familial debts fell to him, and it meant the Merchant's Guild was breathing down his neck a bit more noticeably. But in the back of his mind he was formulating a plan to lift Hawke's spirits, as well as keep her distracted. He only had to hope he wasn't off his mark.

 

Still it wasn't all a waste, he had sold the first chunk of their findings from the Deep Roads during the two weeks she'd been absent. The large pouch of coins sat at his side and waiting for Hawke. He hoped it would assist in keeping Leandra distracted, things between them had always been volatile but if Kerrigan's face was any indication it was now truly on the rocks.

 

When she arrived she had given up having her hair nicely back, and instead it was running wild around her again. Her leathers still in place as she was talking over something quietly with Isabela. The women parted though as Varric began walking down from his palatial suite.

 

“I take it your adventures in Hightown went well?” Varric said with a grin as he saw Kerrigan flush with a combination of embarrassment and indignation. “I shall take that as a yes.”

 

“Leave the poor girl be.” Isabela admonished him, wrapping an arm around Kerrigan's shoulders and pulling her tight, “You looked wonderful sweetie.” The usual purr in her voice gone as Kerrigan only nodded.

 

“Will you be joining us Isabela?” Kerrigan asked after a moment as the pirate queen slipped her arm away. “We could always use another hand in drinking, and I'm sure Varric can be convinced into a game of wicked grace.”

 

“Unfortunately, lovelies, I have a duel tonight.” Kerrigan pouted, and Isabela gave her a small pat on her right cheek, her thumb rubbing along the small scar where a bowstring had struck her as a child. If it was anyone else Varric may have found the touch inappropriate, but the usual lust and flirtation was gone from Isabela. “Don't worry sweetie, we'll have plenty of time to catch up. I'll see you later.”

 

She waved to them both, and winked at Varric before disappearing into the night. Varric indicated up the stairs to Hawke, “Well, messere, I believe I owe you a drink.”

 

Once they reached the palatial suite he saw Hawke slip into a nearby chair as he disappeared to obtain one of his bottles of whiskey. He had several stored in the back, but he usually kept them only for business contacts that gave better deals when drunk, or men who only gave information when the lick of alcohol loosened their locks. But Kerrigan was special, and his plan demanded better than Hanged Man ale. He pulled down the same two glasses they had drunk from before their fateful trip, but if Kerrigan remembered she didn't react. The amber liquid flowed thick and golden into the glasses before he nudged one over to her. Her fingers gripped it gracefully, but waited to raise it until he had sat with her.

 

“Here,” He pulled the red leather pouch from his side and tossed it to her, the heavy sound of coins on the table jarring Kerrigan.

 

“What's this for?” She asked.

 

“I sold a portion of what we brought back, I figured you'd want your share.”

 

“You didn't have to do that, Varric.” She said quietly, but when his firm look combined with his fingers interlocked across his chest made it clear he wouldn't be taking it back she slowly took the pouch.

 

“We're still business partners, Hawke. I'm not going to cheat you now.” She seemed on edge, despite his good humor, “Besides, I can't have people thinking I cheated the new scion of the Amells! Think what they'd do to me.” His voice took on a false tone of horror as he added to it by placing an ungloved hand against his forehead. “It's enough to make someone of my delicate stature faint.”

 

That seemed to finally get to her as she laughed, shaking her head at his theatrics and he grinned right back. “Now come on, drink up. You're not leaving here until this bottle is empty.”

 

“Is that a challenge?” She said, and he saw that wide smirk taking to her lips as she indicated her still full glass of whiskey toward him. He was still a master planner, and she was playing into his hands. Even if it was in her best interest, it was nice to know she wasn't seeing through this one.

 

“A single bottle of whiskey is hardly a challenge, Hawke.” Varric deflected, his own grin widening.

 

“Alright, a game then.” She set her glass down and leaned back as she divested herself of not only her bow and quiver, but also shed her gauntlets, gloves, and coif.

 

“A game has no challenge, how about a bet?” That seemed to spark her interest as he knew it would. She tucked her pieces of armor into the quiver along with her poleyn and grieves before sitting up and leveling her aquamarine colored at him. There was a spark there, and he was already congratulating himself. Apparently a challenge was the best way to keep Lady Hawke distracted.

 

“I'm game, what shall the bet be? Who can drink the most without getting sick in the alley?” The smirk on her lips had grown into a cat-like grin to rival Rivaini's.

 

“Dear me no, all that will do is ensure you end up with your head in a bucket, and me having to clean up later.” Her eyes challenged him, but she laughed as he continued. “No, I will bet you half a sovereign that I can beat you at the Fereldan Drinking Song.”

 

There was a victorious grin on her lips as she gazed at him, a single eyebrow raised in surprise. “You do realize I'm from Fereldan, I have an unfair advantage here.”

 

“Trust me, Hawke, this is me taking pity on you. I tell stories for a living.”

 

“You tell lies for a living.”

 

“Only when the lies get me better paid.” Varric said with a smirk, and raised his glass toward her. “What do you say Hawke, are you up to the challenge?”

 

She grinned and raised her glass, “For each complete rhyme, the other drinks. No cheating, and no stolen rhymes. You lose if you either can't pour your opponent another drink, or if you can't think of a rhyme.”

 

“Agreed. I'll start.” He sat back and set his glass down, a grin on his lips as he looked across at her. She was antsy, like those who came to hear his stories. She fidgeted from side to side, he could practically hear the creak of her leathers, and the self-satisfied grin on her face showed she thought she had a chance at this bet. She was going to be sadly mistaken. “Oh, I wish I had time to sing you a song. But once I start singing, I sing all night long.”

 

Kerrigan laughed at that, shaking her head. “That's it? The great bard, Serrah Varric Tethras, and that's where you start?”

 

Varric was unperturbed, keeping his hands interlocked on his chest as he grinned at her, “Just trying to keep you from feeling intimidated, beautiful.”

 

She shook her head before downing the whiskey and he poured her another. She was undaunted, even by the bitter edge of the whiskey, as she sat back herself. Their two amber glasses between them like chess pieces. “Oh, in Antiva they'll kill ya, in Tevinter they'll slave, but in Kirkwall no one cares so long as they get paid.”

 

Varric felt his eyebrows raise, he knew Hawke to be a wit but to be able to drop such a rhyme so quickly was more than he had considered her capable. Her grin had become smug, her chin raising in pride as he eyed her critically. “I may have underestimated you.”

 

“Wouldn't be the first time.” Was her only response before she indicated to his drink and he leaned forward to down it before she poured him another. “It's not too late to back down you know, I'll even let you keep your money.” She said after he had sat back again.

 

“Not a chance beautiful, just warming up.” They grinned at each other, with equal challenge, and he knew it would be a long night.

 

Several hours later they had completed not only the bottle of whiskey, but had moved on to a second, and then a third. She had suggested at the end of the second bottle they move to ale, but whether it was bardic bravado or simply the alcohol he refused, and upped the bet from half a sovereign to five sovereigns. It was nearing the end of the third bottle that Kerrigan was truly starting to show the signs of the alcohol, and the first time she suggested they pause the game. Her cheeks were red, chest rising and falling as her fingers played patterns on the table. Her eyes staring into him, and he swore he heard the start of a slur on her lips.

 

“Are you forfeiting, Hawke?” He challenged, his own bravado only better fueled by the heat of the alcohol. He was nowhere near as bad off as his slightly weaving friend, but he definitely was feeling the effects.

 

“No!” She defended, her eyes narrowing at him. “But if one -” she paused, her hand wavering a bit in front of her before she focused and the movement steadied so she could point the digit at him, “one of us is going to end up in Anders clinic.”  
She moved to stand, her body sluggish even without the weight of most of her armor. Varric was not only faster, but had the natural dwarven heritage of being able to handle his drink. He placed himself between her and the doorway, watching with an amused grin as Hawke gripped the table to stand. "Hawke, you are staying in this room tonight. I can’t have you swaying in the streets, it shall ruin all my stories about you."

"H-How are you going to sh’top-me, Dwarf?" Hawke said, a challenge in her eyes as she swayed, and grabbed the table tighter. Varric smirked, before shoving the door shut and slid the lock.

"You can leave, when you are sober enough to unlock the door."

Hawke’s face fell, she knew that lock as did Varric. He had shown her how to unlock it before they left for the Deep Roads. It had a very particular trick involving holding it with one shoulder, lifting the handle, and then pulling to the right. She wavered, he saw the slight drunken shift in her movement before she finally concentrated her eyesight down on him “You can’t be serious,” she slurred, eying the door and then him with an equal glower.

"Of course I am, Hawke." Varric laughed, "How else do you think I keep beautiful women up here?"

"Bullshit." Hawke retorted, shaking her head as she sat back down. "You have women throwing themselves at you, you use the door to keep Isabela out." She relaxed into the chair, eyes closing as she leaned back against the cool stone of the seat. By the paling of the red in her cheeks she was understanding why dwarves made everything out of stone. It wasn’t just the lack of trees, but the cool of the rock could ease the fever of alcohol, and assist with the headache of a dirt-ale hangover. Her lips parted with a soft sigh and he quickly looked away and cleared his throat. The sight of her, eyes closed, head reclined as a breathy sigh left her lips was not the sort of distraction he needed.

"True, even three sheets to the wind you are quite observant Hawke." He was moving around the room but Hawke didn’t dare look at him. His guess was her vision was still swimming with her pathetic attempt at standing. "Now, I believe it was my turn." Varric said, sitting down with a bottle of port that he had retrieved from his personal stores.

"We’re still playing?" She asked, and Varric noted the slurring of her words had lessened greatly.

"But of course, Hawke." He said as he poured them each a glass, "I bet you five sovereigns I could beat you at this game, and you were last up." He pushed the glass to her, his bare hands not feeling the cool of the stem but infinitely aware of the heat of her fingers brushing his as she took her glass. "Unless of course, you would like to give up now. It shall end the same either way."

Hawke glared at him, her reddened cheeks darkening with the anger of a challenge. “You’re on, Varric.”

"Good." He took a sip of the port before sitting back. "Oh, the world's full of gamblers, and drinkers, and bards," He saw her eyes following him, the last of the cooling off effect of the stone allowing her to raise her head and settle her shoulders. “But the only one who matters, is the one dealing the cards...” He laughed loud as her face fell, her fingers grabbing up the port and drinking it down. He filled it as soon as she set it back, watching as she rested back into the chair, most likely hoping that the stone would steal away more of the heat.

"Oh, there are templars, and chantries, seekers and divine. But arseholes will win it, and win every time." They both laughed at that, his fingers grabbing the glass to take back the port. "Every last drop Varric, I shall have those sovereigns yet."

"Says the woman who is starting to sink her chair."

"Don’t doubt me, I’ve been playing this game for a long time, you’ll never best me."  
Perhaps he should have folded, for as the night wore on Hawke had switched chairs for the one near him, and his rhymes became dirtier. The pauses between rhymes were longer, the port emptying slower as he caught himself just observing her as she sat relaxed in the chair.  
They no longer sang them bawdy and loud, but whispered their rhymes conspiratorially as Hawke rested with now bare feet up on his table. He didn't remember when she had taken her boots off, or the breastplate, for now she sat in only a white cloth tunic and her deerskin trousers, and he was becoming very distracted by the way her breath moved the fabric. It rose and settled with each rise and fall, and he was equally distracted by her long fingers making invisible patterns on her chair arm.

 

“It's your turn Varric,” she said, her voice a whisper past his ear and he could feel its heat. His eyes watched as her fingers did another slow spiral against the cool stone of her chair and found himself forgetting all about the game. His original plan had been to distract Hawke with, what he was told, was one of her favorite games, get her blitzed out of her mind, and then let her sleep. He had even prepared himself for a night sleeping in a chair, again, but as his eyes watched her fingertips scrape across the stone he was starting to ponder other uses for those fingers. She leaned forward, her lips almost brushing his ear as she repeated, “Your turn.”

 

“Right, right.” He said softly, tempted to drink the drink just to keep his mind focused, but not wanting to lose by such an oversight. She leaned back, a laugh on her lips as he kept his eyes on the port. He was surprised they could still pour as he felt like his skin was somewhere between pleasantly tingling, and burning. He looked at her from the corners, and a grin slid across his features. “Oh there once was a great hero, a beauty to be adored. She had courage, and kindness, and breasts greater than the gates of Orzammar!”

 

“Varric!” She shoved him, and he laughed even as it forced him to slosh his drink on his hand. Her laughter was bright, her reddened cheeks only amplified the color in her eyes, and the red of her lips. He licked up the port on his wrist, and grinned wider when he saw her eyes watching him with fascination as his pink tongue captured the last of the dark liquid off his fingers. “That was truly terrible.” She finally said, her eyes flicking to the other side of the room.

 

The warmth was delightful, and the alcohol relaxed him, giving his expression a certain ease to it as he kept himself in his chair and eyed her from beside him, watching the curve of her throat as she drank down her own shot, and the slight gloss it left on her lips. “I doubt you could come up with one better.”

 

She contemplated for a time, and he let himself watch her. He'd learned several things about Hawke from this game, that when she had a good rhyme she would bite her lip to hide her smile, when she thought it was funny she'd giggle to herself before speaking. That when she was concentrating she bit her cheek, and looked up the ceiling, which gave him a perfect view of the curl of her neck down to her collarbones from the untied v of her tunic. Also that when he told a particularly dirty rhyme her eyes would shut with laughter, but afterward she would sneak looks at him. Those looks had him reaching into his repertoire for the most tawdry he could find.  
He saw the victorious smile that meant she had one, and waited, his mind fascinated with the way her mouth formed the words. “Oh, they say dwarves are the gift of the Stone, strong and hard.” Her voice was a soft purr as her fingers reached out and traced his chair's arm just to the side of him. Even through the heavy leather of the jacket he could swear she was touching him, burning him with the heat of her fingertips. She leaned closer, and he could feel her breath in his ear, and the mixture of jasper, flowers, and the burn of alcohol on her breath, “but never trust one, who says he's a bard.”

 

His brows furrowed as he was caught in the trap of her voice, eyes darting to her lips as he took his own shot. But when his hand reached for the port, realizing he had forgotten to fill her glass, he found her hand already there. Their fingers both curled around the bottle as she moved her fingers to rest between his own, and the red on her cheeks seemed only brighter between the alcohol and the firelight.

 

His mind, treacherous as it was, decided this would be a proper moment to remember her in the water, and the other time he'd had those fingers threaded between his own. Then it was when she pulled out of the water, all white skin and red hair. He felt the warmth in him shift and his cock suddenly begin to twitch. That moment where he had almost called her over, enjoyed the feeling of another body in the roads coming back in full, almost painful, clarity. She licked her lips, and he followed the pink organ like a lifeline.

 

“You want to give up, dwarf?” She challenged him from her seat, fingers curling protectively around the bottle, eyes boring into him as he looked back and grinned.

 

He tugged the bottle, causing her slow response system to not catch herself as instead of letting go it pulled her half out of her chair and toward him. He used his free hand to grab her chin in his fingers, and gazed into her eyes. “There's something you need to learn about me, Hawke.” He said, his voice deep and rough as he leaned down so they were a mere moments from one another. “I hate to lose.”

 

He couldn't remember who crossed the space first, if he shoved his lips against hers or she his. He'd tell it as her because it's fitting that way, even if the truth was lost to the lack of clear thinking alcohol gifted them. Her lips were soft, and held no shyness as she pressed them tight against his own before nipping at his lower lip. When they broke apart, she was panting, eyes half lidded as the glow from the alcohol had been replaced with a deeper blush. Her lips swelling with the sudden attention, and he caught her grinning.

 

Then it was a blur, lips smashed together as tongues tasted alcohol on each other and a mix of other flavors, the soft taste of mint from something earlier in the day, the edge of the smoking haze that hung about the Hanged Man. Then there were limbs and she was in his lap, her taller body eased around his own as her knees slipped into the space between his legs and the chair arms. The cool of the chair seeming to burn just as much as the heat of her lips. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, and something far off tried to make him think of what he was doing, but all Varric was aware of was heat, and long fingers that were quickly finding their way against his skin. His own fingers reacted, finding his way beneath the oversized tunic she wore to feel the soft skin beneath the harsh cotton.

 

She gasped as he caught her lower lip between his teeth, a slight tug making her hips jump and it was like a lightning bolt down his spine. She must have seen something on his face shift, as she started grinding her hips more forcefully. She was soft beneath his hands as he pressed upward as her own fingertips raked carefully trimmed nails down his chest. His calloused fingers pressing into the silk of her skin to feel the muscle underneath ripple with each grind of her hips moving forward.

 

Their lips broke apart as her fingers started clumsily fighting with her tunic before throwing it over her head and elsewhere, and his fingers and lips craved that suddenly exposed skin. His fingers reached and caught her backside, pulling her tightly to him and he heard the most glorious sound. A soft moan, almost musical left her lips as she threw her head back. His cock twitched painfully at it, and his fingers gripped her ass tighter, the part of his mind still capable of thought memorizing the sensation of his fingers digging against deerskin as he felt those two perfect gloves of flesh. Isabela was right, they did beg to be squeezed.

 

She ground her hips against him again, and a hiss left him with the friction as he bit at her collarbone before kissing along the freckles that darted toward her shoulders. She was too dressed as her red hair fell in haphazard curls down her chest and he curled his fingers into those strands as his other hand fled to her hip to touch along the edges of skin. Her teeth had found his ear, sucking softly on the ring of gold and that strip of fabric was keeping the breasts that had been distracting him all evening from him, not to mention the trousers. Her fingers were pushing at his coat and he shrugged out of it, but when her fingers started grabbing for his tunic he grabbed her hands.

 

“As much as I am enjoying all this,” his voice was a low growl as his fingers began to play up her ribs and watched the way she arched against him, her hips increasing the delicious friction between them. “I believe the bed is better suited for this sort of attention.”

 

It seemed to take a moment to sink in, but perhaps that was the distraction of his fingers moving along the very edge of her binder. She leaned down, pressing a heated kiss against his lips even as she slowly disentangled herself from him. He felt the tickling edge of her curls before her fingers found his hand and started tugging him up with her. He remembered the lake again as her long legs and torso began to pull away from him and those fingers held fast.

 

She was no mermaid, she was more like a siren as he followed those insisting fingertips. She turned from him, obviously smart enough to realize walking backward would probably just end with her swaying, and very very nice, ass on the floor. Once she reached the bed she released him and he found his fingers gripping onto her fingertips before they escaped. She slowly crawled onto his large bed, her fingers spreading out against the sheets as he heard appreciative hums and moans from her lips. He was enraptured, watching the way her ass swung in the air before she flipped over, even as the alcohol had him swaying slightly from where he stood.

 

“Come here,” she whispered, just as his brain was starting to wonder if this was a good idea. Her voice was a carefully laid trap, gentle and soft, as her fingers removed the buckle on her deerskin trousers. Before he had really come to a consensus with his mind of why he shouldn't be doing it, the sight of her hips shimmying out of those trousers had his booted feet moving toward the bed. Everything had a gentle halo around it, soft edges and blurred details as he watched the leather pushed off those long legs.

 

There was another blur as he kicked his boots, but somehow his trousers too as he desperately climbed toward her on the bed. Her long legs bent and open, welcoming him to settle between them. He grasped along those legs as he moved up, feeling the combination of muscle and soft skin, the heat of it against his callouses searing into his mind.

 

Her red hair lay in large curls around her head, mixing with the color of his sheets as she arched herself into the touch, small gasps on her lips each time his fingers would press into the skin. When he came close enough for her fingers he found them touching along his sides, back, dipping against his smalls in a desperate attempt to get him closer. She was impatient, her body arching into his fingers as he slipped past her hips.

 

“Varric,” the sound of her name on his lips drove heat straight to his loins, his cock giving a few painful twitches at the sound. Another time he would have taken his time, but as she writhed beneath him he decided now was not that time. The alcohol was fire in his veins, and it stripped judgment, and patience. His fingers removed her binder in a quick motion and before she could react to the cool air he captured a breast in his mouth, one of his fingers quickly that final strip of clothing keeping him from her while the other had disappeared into those tightly wound curls of her hair.

 

He tasted salt on her skin as his tongue flicked her nipple, feeling it bud beneath his ministrations as she arched into the feeling, soft moans and groans filled his ears. Her fingers had pulled his hair free, one hand caught in the strands as the other was pressing into the muscles of his back. His fingers pulled at the cloth hiding her apex, a few tugs all that was needed to have her lifting off the bed so he could pull them free.

 

He pulled the cloth away, almost sure he heard it rip but not caring. Those long fingers he had admired took advantage of the space wrapped around his length and tugged, a growl vibrating in his throat as she did so again. Her legs tried to bring him closer, and he didn't argue settling against her as he felt the head of his cock flick against the wet of her. He looked up to her face, and found a beautiful sight gazing back to him. Her head was thrown back amongst the pillows, breath panting out her swollen lips as she arched her back to try and gain more friction against him. Her hands twisted amongst his sheets as her wild locks curled around her like a cloak.

 

“Varric, please.” That brought him out of his drunken haze as Hawke begged him, strong, proud Hawke begged him with her legs desperately trying to bring him closer as those wicked fingers tugged a little harsher along the length of him.

 

“Anything for you, m'lady.” was all he replied and her fingers fled. He lined himself up, a teasing flick of his head against her slit making her whine and that turned his self-satisfied grin into a smirk. He almost did it again but her legs suddenly locked around him, and a roll of those hips changed his mind.

 

Another time, in a better state of mind, he might have taken it slower, but as it was her plaintive moans had erased what little sense he had, his entire mind a combination of her body against his all soft silk and warmth, and the sound of her gasping and moaning for him. He entered her in one fast stroke, and she groaned, her eyes rolling back as she arched against the bed. Her fingers clutched desperately at his shoulders, and he felt her thighs quiver as he leaned down and caught her lips, the height differences so complained between dwarf and human forgotten as he began to thrust within her.

 

Delicious heat and tightness had him groaning against her as she rocked her hips to meet each thrust. It was all heat and friction as his head swam. Time blurred again, his entire mind trapped in the sensation. His name on her lips as she threw her head back, his hands gripping her hips, the grunts and moans intermixing into a chorus as she writhed beneath him. The tightness as her walls would grip him, her thighs quivering on either side of him as she came again, and again with his name on her lips in wanton abandon that he was sure could be heard down below.

 

Then his world filled with stars, white spots as his vision tunneled and he bucked into her, body tense and breath panting as he came. He may have said her name, or Bianca's, or nothing at all. He wasn't sure he said anything when the blood rush muffled all sound and his eyes closed. He felt her shuddering breath before falling to the side.

 

They were both panting, breathless as he felt the cool of the air steal the heat. His vision swam, and spun and he closed his eyes. Time blurred as he felt her fingers begin making those same invisible patterns on his chest, moving through his chest hair as her legs slid over his own and she curled into him. His own fingers disappeared into those tightly wound curls, pressing them back idly, the motion soothing as he felt the blackness of sleep claim him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to my wonderful beta SpectreAntiHero, without her this chapter would be chalk full of errors. Thanks also to everyone who has read, reviewed, and kudo'd. The support helps keep me going, and we'll see you in chapter seven!


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